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CORNELL 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY. 



3 1924 063 545 325 




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Enclent Enolteb flDetvical 
IRomantes* 

SELECTED AND PUBLISHED BY 
JOSEPH RITSON, 

AND REVISED BY 

EDMUND GOLDSMID, F.R.H.S. 

Vol II. 



PART I. 



• Qua prisds memorata Catonibus atque Cethegis 
Nunc iitus informis premit ac deserta vetustas.'' 
— HoRATrus. 




CbtnDurdb : 

E. &? G. GOLDSMID. 

1885. 



Ancient English Metrical 
Romances. 



Selectelr anlr ^|ufiIiBfje& 
By JOSEPH RITSON, 

AND REVISED BY 

EDMUND GOLDSMID, F.R.H.S. 
Vol. II. 



" Quae priscis memorata Catonibus atque Cethegis 
Nunc situs informis premit ac deserta vetustas." 

HORATIUS. 








EDINBURGH . 
E. & G. GOLDSMID. 

1885. 



This edition is limited to 2"/^ copies on demy Svo, and 75 copies 
(large paper) on demy a^to paper. 



LAUNFAL. 

BT THOMAS CHESTRE. 

The only ancient copy of this excellent romance, known to be 
now extant, is contained in a manuscript of the Cotton-library, 
(Caligula A. II.) written, it would seem, in or about the reign ot 
Henry VI. in which the translator is, by Tanner, who, most 
absurdly, styles him " unus regis Arthuri equitum rotunda tabula,^' 
supposed to have lived. Two copies are preserved, in our own 
libraries, of the French original, by Marie de France, a Norman 
poetess of the thirteenth century; one in the Harleian MS. Num. 
978, and the other in the Cotton, Vespasian B. XIV. The latter 
begins, 

" La'venture de un lay ; " 

the former (being a collection of such pieces) 

"Lanjenture dun autre hi" 

The English poem, which, by the way, is much enlarged, 
containing a surplus of near three hundred lines, appears to have 
been printed under the name of "Sir Lambwell;" being licensed, 
in the register of the Stationers-Company, to John Kynge,* in 1558, 
and expressly mentioned in Laneham's "Letter, whearin part of 
the entertainment unto the queenz majesty at Killingworth 
castl, 1575, iz signified." 

M. Le Grand has given the extract of a Lai de Gru'elan, ot 
which, he observes, the subject is precisely the same with that of 
Lanval; though the details are altogether different. See Fabliaux, 
ou contes, A, 92. 

* He dwelt in Creed Lane, and kept a shop at the sign of the Swan in St. Paul's 
Churchyard. He probably died in 1561. — Johnson's Typographia, vol. i., p. 557. 



LAUNFAL. 



PART I. 

Be doughty Artours dawes,* 

That held Engelond yn good lawes, 

Ther fell a wondyr cas, 
Of a ley that was ysette,t 
That hyght Launval, and hatte yette ; X 

Now herkeneth how hyt was. 
Doughty Artour som whyle 
Sojournede yn Kardeuyle,§ 

Wyth joye and greet solas ; 



* Dr Percy, by mistake, gives it (from Ames ?) 

" hi douzty Artours dawes ;" 
and says that it is in his folio MS. p. 60, beginning thus — 

*' Doughty in King Arthures dayes." 

f A lay (supposed to come from the barbarous Latin leudus, which occurs in the 
epistle of Fortunatus to Gregory of Tours — 

** Barbaras kudos Jiarpa relidebat") 
was what is now called a song or ballad, but generally of the elegiac kind, tender and 
pathetic (in French /a/, in German //W, in Saxon leod)^ which was usually sung to the 
harp ; and of which many instances may be found in the prose Ronnan de Tristan, 
1488, and elsewhere. See more of these ancient British lays in a note to Emare. 

X Thus Mary — 

" Laventure dun autre lai 
Cum ele avient vus cunterai, 
Faitfu dun mut gentil -vassal 
En Bretans lafelent Lanval." 
§ Thus in the MS. and Mr EUis's edition ; but read, as afterward, Kardevyle. It 
is Carlisle in Cumberland, where King Arthur is fabled to have had a palace and 
occasional residence. "On this ryver," says Froisart, mistaking the Tyne for 
the Esk, « standeth the towne and castell of Carlyel, the whiche some tyme was 
kyng Arthurs, and helde his courte there often-tymes." (English translation, 
152^, fo. vii, b.) Thus, also, in an ancient Scottish romance, furtively printed by 
Pinkerton : — 

"In the tyme of Arthur an aunter bytydde, 
By the Turne-Wathelan, as the boke telles 
When he to Carlele was comen and conquerour kydde " &c. 
Two old ballads, upon the subject of King Arthur, printed in the " Reliqucs of ancient 



Metrical Romances. 



And knyghtes that wer profitable, 
With Artour of the rounde table, 

Never noon better ther nas. 
Sere Persevall, * and syr Gawayn, 
Syr Gyheryes, and syr Agrafrayn, t 

And Launcelott Dulake, 
Syr Kay, and syr Ewayn, 
That well couthe fyghte yn plain, 

Bateles for to take. 



English Poetry." suppose his residence at Carleile; and one of them, in particular, 
says, 

"At Tearne-Wadling, his castle stands." 

'* Tearne- Wadling," according to the ingenious editor (and which, as he observes, is 
evidently the Turne-Wathelan of the Scottish poem), " is the name of a small lake 
near Hesketh, in Cumberland, on the road from Penrith to Carlisle. There is a 
tradition,'' he adds, "that an old castle once stood near the lake, the remains of 
which were not long since visible : " Team, in the dialect of that country, signify- 
ing a small lake, and being still in use. The tradition is that either the castle or a 
great city, was swallowed up by the lake, and may be still seen, under favorable 
circumstances, at its bottom. 

It is Kardoel in the original, and elsewhere Cardueil, The old romance of Merlin 
calls it "la ■ville de Cardueil en GaUes." 

* Sir Perceval le Galois, or Percival de Gales, was one of the knights of the round 
table. His adventures form the subject of a French metrical romance, composed, in 
the twelfth century, by Chrestien de Troyes, or, according to others, by a certain 
Manecier, Mennesier, or Menessier, and of an English one, in the fifteenth, by 
Robert de Thornton. The former, extant in the national library of France, and in 
that of Berne, is said to contain no less than 60,000 verses ; a number, however, 
which has been reduced by others to 20,000, and even to 8,700 and 4,500. It 
appeared in prose at Paris, 1530, 8vo. The latter is in the library of Lincoln 
Cathedral. 

•f- Gaheris {Gueherries, or Gueresches), and Agravaine, surnamed le orgueilleux, were 
brothers to Sir Gawain, and both knights of the round table. 

J This hero was the son of Ban, king of Benock, in the marches of Gaul and 
Little-Britain, and a knight-companion of the round table. He is equally remark- 
able for his gallantry and good fortune ; being never overcome, in either joust or 
tournament, unless by enchantment or treachery; and being in high favour with 
the queen, whom he loved with singular fidelity to the last ; doing for her many 
magnanimous deeds of arms, and actually saveing her from the fire through his noble 
chivalry. This connection involved him in a long and cruel war with King Arthur ; 
after whose death he became a hermit. His adventures, which take up a considerable 
portion of Mart d'Arthnr, are the subject of a very old French romance, in three 
folio volumes, beside a number of MSS. 



Ancient Engluh 



Kyng Ban-Booght, and kyng Bos,* 

Of ham ther was a greet los, 20 

Men sawe tho no wher her make ; 
Syr Galafre,t and syr Launfale, 
Wherof a noble tale 

Among us schall awake. 

With Artour ther was a bacheler, 
And hadde ybe well many a yer, 

Launfal for soth he hyght, 
He gaf gyftys largelyche. 
Gold, and sylver, and clodes ryche. 

To squyer and to knyght. 30 

For hys largesse and hys bount^, 
The kynges stuward made was he. 

Ten yer, y you plyght ; 
Of alle the knyghtes of the table rounde 
So large ther was noon yfounde. 

Be dayes ne be nyght. 

So hyt be fyll, yn the tenthe yer, 

Marlyn was Artours counsalere,t 

He radde hym for to wende 

* Ban was king of Senoic, and Boon (not Boo%t) king of Cannes, They were 
brothers, and both knights of the rounnd table. Ban was the father of sir Lancelot. 
Bourt in Mort d' Arthur is called Bors. There is no king Bos : nor, in fact, do any 
of these names occur in the French original. There was, indeed, another Boort, or 
Bors, afterwards king of Benoic ; but the translator has evidently missupposed Ban- 
Booxt to be the name of one king, and Bos that of the other. A "roman des rots 
Bans and Beors freres germalns." fo. is among the MSS. of the French national 
library. [Bib, du roi, 7184). 

■f- No such name occurs among the knights of the round table, or is to be met 
with in any old romance. It is, probably, a corruption of Gahhaut, Galahalt, or 
Galahad, of whom mention is made in Mort d! Arthur, 

\ Merlin, a powerful magician, was begotten by a devil, or incubus, upon a young 
damsel of great beauty, and daughter, as Geoftrey of Monmouth asserts, to the king 
of Demeti'a. He removed, by a wonderful machine of his own invention, the 
giants-dance, now Stone-henge, from Ireland, to Salisbury-plain, where part of it is 
still standing ; and, in order to enable Uther Pendragon, king of Britain, to enjoy 
Igerna, the wife of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, transformed him," by magical 
art, into the likeness of her husband ; which amorous connection, (Igerna being 
rendered an honest woman by the murder of her spouse, and timely intermarriage 
with king Uther,) enlightened the world, like another Alcmena, with a second 
Hercules, -videlicet, the illustrious Arthur. This famous prophet, being violently 
enamoured of a fairy damsel, in the march of Little-Britain, named Aimerme or 
Viiiiane, alias The Lady or Damsel of the lake, taught her so many of his magic secrets that 



Metrical Romances. 



To king Ryon of Irlond ryght,* 40 

And sette him ther a lady bryght, 

Gwennere hys doughtyr hende. 
So he dede, and home her brought. 
But syr Launfal lyked her noght, 

Ne other knyghtes that wer hende ; 
For the lady bar los of swych word. 
That sche hadde lemannys unther her lord. 

So fele ther nas noon ende. 

They wer ywedded, as y you say. 

Upon a Wytsonday, 50 

Before princes of moch pryde. 
No man ne may telle yn tale 
What tolk ther was at that bredale, 

Of countreys fer and wyde. 
No nother man was yn halle ysette. 
But he wer prelat, other baronette, t 

In herte ys naght to hyde, 

once upon a time, she left him asleep in a cave within the perilous forest of 
Darrtantes, on the borders of the sea of Cornwall, and the sea of Soreloys, 
where, if the credible inhabitants of those countries may be believed, he still 
remains in that condition ; the place of his repose being effectually sealed by 
force of grand conjurations, and having himself been never seen by any man, who 
could give intelligence of it ; even that courteous knight Sir Gawin, who, after his 
enchantment, had some conversation with him, not being permitted the gratification 
of a single look. (See Lancelot du lac, fo. 6.) Her enchantments, however, are 
related with some difference, and more particularity, in the romance of her venerable 
gallant, or, rather, unfortunate dupe, tome 2, fo. 127, whereby it appears that, after 
being enchanted by his mistress, as aforesaid he found himself, when he awoke, in the 
strongest tower in the world, to wit, in the forest of Broceliande, whence he was never 
able to depart, although she continued to visit him both by day and night at her 
pleasure. The divine Ariosto, by poetical licence, has placed the tomb of this 
magician in some part of France ; and our admirable Spenser, after an old tradition, 
in Wales, which, in fact, seems to have had the best title to him. His prophecies, 
which were first published in The Brituh History, have since gone through repeated 
editions, in Latin, French, and English. 

* This king Ryon, or Ryence, was also king of North Wales, and of many isles. He 
sent to King Arthur, for his beard, to enable him, with those of eleven other kings, 
whom he had already discomfited, to purfle his mantle. See Mort d'u4rthur, B. I. 
C. 24. According, however, to Geoffrey of Moumouth, this insulting message 
proceeded from the giant Rith, whom Arthur slew upon the mountain Araiiius. 
Ryon was afterwards brought prisoner to Arthur (C. 34) ; and is named among the 
knights of the round-table. The author is singular in making Guenever his daughter. 

f There was no baronet, properly so called, before the reign of James the first. 
The word, at the same time, is by no means singular in ancient historians; but 
whether a diminutive of baron, or a corruption of banneret, is uncertain. 



Ancient English 



Yf they fatte noght alle ylyche, * 
Har servyse was good and ryche, 

Certeyn yn ech a syde. 60 

And whan the lordes hadde ete yn the halle, 
And the clothes wer drawen alle. 

As ye mowe her and lythe, 
The botelers fentyn wyn. 
To alle the lords that wer theryn, 

With chere both glad and blythe. 
The quene yaf gyftes for the nones. 
Gold and selver, precyous stonys. 

Her curtasye to kythe, 
Everych knyght sche yaf broche, other ryng, 70 
But syr Launfal sche yaf no thyng. 

That grevede hym many a sythe. 

And whan the bredale was at ende 
Launfal tok his leve to wende 

At Artour the kyng, 
And seyde a lettere was to hym come. 
That deth hadde hys fadyr ynome. 

He most to his beryynge. 
Tho seyde king Artour, that was hende, 
Launfal, if thou wylt fro me wende, 80 

Tak with the greet spendyng. 
And my suster sones two, 
Bothe they schull with the go. 

At hom the for to bryng. 

Launfal tok leve, withoute fable. 
With knyghtes of the rounde table. 

And wente forth yn his journS, 
Tyl he come to Karlyoun,t 
To the meyrys hous of the toune, 

Hys servaunt that hadde ybe. 90 



* The original reading is "ylyke." 

f Caerleon (tlie Urhs Legionum of GeoiTrey), formerly in Glamorganshire, but 
now in Monmouthshire, upon the river Usk, near the Severn-sea. The district, in 
which this city stood, was called Givent, of which Arthur is said to have been king. 
See Carte. Casrleginti, or Caer Lheon fCivitas Legionum), is, likewise, the ancient 
name of Chester upon Dee. There is nothing of this in the original. 



Metrical Romances. 



The meyr stod, as ye may here, 
And saw hym come ride up anblere, 

With two knyghtes and other maynfe, 
Agayns hym he hath wey ynome, 
And seyde, Syr, thou art well come, 

How faryth our kyng ? tel me. 

Launfal answerede and seyde than. 
He faryth as well as any man, 

And elles greet ruthe hyt wore ; 
But, syr meyr, without lesyng, 
I am thepartyth fram the kyng, 

And that rewyth me sore : 
Ne ther thar noman benethe ne above. 
For the kyng Artours love, 

Onowre me never more ; 
But, syr meyr, y pray the pur amour, 
May y take with the sojour ? 

Som tyme we knewe us yore. 

The meyr stod, and bethogte hym there. 
What myght be hys answere. 

And to hym than gan he sayn, 
Syr, seven knyghtes han her har in ynome. 
And ever y wayte whan they wyl come, 

They am of Lytyll-Bretayne.* 
Launfal turnede hymself and lowgh, 
Therof he hadde scorn inowgh. 

And seyde to his knyghtes tweyne. 
Now may ye se swych ys service, 
Unther a lord of lytyll pryse. 

How he may therof be fayn. 



* Little-Britain, or Britany, called, by the French, Basse-Brctagae, and, by the 
ancients, Armorica, on the coast of France, opposite to Great Britain, where certain 
refugee Britons are said to have fled, and established a settlement, on the success of 
the Saxons, in or about the year 513. See Vertot's Critical history. Sec. I, 103. Bede, 
however, by some strange mistake, supposes the Southern Britons to have proceeded 
from Armorica. There was a succession of British kings in this little territory, who 
are famous in the old French annals. These British emigrants seem to have been 
chiefly Cornish, not only from their having given the name of Cornwall to a part of 
their new acquisition, where they, likewise, had, as in their old possessions, a Mount St. 
Michael, but from the affinity of the two dialects, one of which is extant in its literary 
remains, and the other is still spoken. 



Ancient English 



Lauiifal awayivard gan to ryde, 
The meyr bad he schuld abyde. 

And seyde yn thys manere, 
Syr, yn a chamber by my orchard-syde, 
Ther may ye dwell with joye and pryde, 

Yf hyt your wyll were. 
Launfal anoon ryghtes, 
He and hys two knytes, 

Sojournede ther yn fere, 
So savagelych hys good he besette, 130 

That he ward yn greet dette, 

Ryght yn the ferst yere. 

So hyt befell at Pentecost, 
Swych tyme as the holy gost 

Among mankend gan lyght. 
That syr Hugh and syr Jon, 
Tok her leve for to gon 

At syr Launfal the knyght. 
They seyd, Syr, our robes beth to-rent 
And your tresour* ys all yspent, iao 

And we goth ewyll ydyght. 
Thanne seyde syr Launfal to the knyghtes fre. 
Tell yd no man of my poverty, 

For the love of god almyght. 

The knyghtes answerede and seyde tho, 
That they nolde him wreye never mo, 

All thys world to wynne. 
With that word they t wente hym fro. 
To Glastyngbery bothe two, 

Ther kyng Artour was inne. , tq 

The kyng sawe the knyghtes hende. 
And ayens ham he gan wende. 

For they wer of his kenne ; J 
Noon other robes they ne hadde 
Than they out with ham ladde. 

And tho wete to-tore and thynne. 



*The original reads : "tofour 
■f- The original reads : "the." 



Metrical Romances. 



Than seyde quene Gwenore, that was fel 
How faryth the proud knight Launfal ? 

May he hys armes welde ? 
Ye, madame, sayde the knytes than, i6o 

He fatyth as well as any man, 

And ellys god hyt schelde. 
Moche worchyp and greet honour. 
To Gonore the quene and King Artour, 

Of syr Launfal they telde ; 
And seyde, He lovede us so. 
That he would us evermo, 

At wyll have yhelde. 

But upon a rayny day hyt befel. 

An huntynge wente syr Launfel, 170 

To chasy yn holtes hore. 
In our old robes we yede that day. 
And thus we beth ywent away. 

As we before hym wore. 
Glad was Artour the kyng. 
That Launfal was yn good lyking. 

The quene hyt rew well sore ; 
For sche wold, with all her myght. 
That he hadde be, bothe day and nyght. 

In paynys mor and more. 180 

Upon a day of the trinitS, 
A feste of greet solempnitS 

In Carlyoun was holde, 
Erles and barones of that countrS. 
Ladyes and borjaes * of that cit&, 

Thyder come bothe yongh and old. 
But Launfal for hys povertS 
Was not bode to that semblfe, 

Lyte men of hym tolde ; 
The meyr to the feste was of sent, 190 

The merys doughter to Launfal went. 

And axede yf he wolde 

In halle dyne with her that day. 
Damesele, he sayde, nay. 
To dyne have i no herte ; 

* Fr. Bourgeois. 



Ancient English 



Thre dayes ther ben agon 
Mete ne drynke eet y noon. 

And all was for povert. 
To-day to cherche y wold have gon. 
But me fawtede * hosyn and schon, 200 

Clenly brech and scherte ; 
And for defawte of clodynge, 
Ne myghte y yn with the peple thrynge, 

No won ther dough me smerte 

But othyng, damesele, y pray the, 
Sadel and brydel lene thou me, 

A whyle for to ryde, 
That y myghte comfortede be. 
By a launde unther thys cyte, 

Al yn thys undern-tyde. 210 

Launfal dyghte hys courser. 
Without knave other squyer. 

He rood with lytyll pryde ; 
Hys hors slod, and fel yn the fen, 
Wherfore hym scornede many men, 

Abowte hym fer and wyde. 

Poverly the knyght to hors gan sprynge. 
For to dryve away lokynge. 

He rood toward the west ; 
The wether was hot the undern-tyde. 
He lyghte adoun, and gan abyde, 220 

Under a fayr forest : 
And for hete to the wedere, 
Hys mantell he feld togydere, 

And sette hym doun to reste ; 
Thus sat the knyght yn symplyte. 
In the schadowe unther a tre, 

Ther that hym lykede best. 



As he sat yn sorrow and sore. 
He sawe come out of holtes hore 

Gentyll maydenes two, 
Har kertoles wer of Inde sandel, 
Ilased smalle, jolyf and well, 

Ther myght noon gayer go. 

» Failed. 



230 



Metrical Romances. 1 1 



Har manteles wer of grene felwet, 
Ybordured with gold, right well ysette 

Ipelvred with grys and gro ; 
Har heddys wer dyght well withalle, 
Everych hadde oon a jolyf coronall, 

Wyth syxty gemmys and mo. 240 

Har faces wer whyt as snow on downe, 
Har rode was red, her eyn wor browne, 

I sawe never non swyche ; 
That oon bar of gold a basyn. 
That other a towayle whyt and fyn, 

Of selk that was good and ryche. 
Her kercheves wer well schyre, 
Arayd wyth ryche gold wyre, 

Launfal began to syche ; 
They com to hym over the hoth, 450 

He was curteys, aud ayens hem goth, 

And greette hem myldelyche. 

Damesels, he seyde, god yow se ! 
Syr knyght, they seyde, well the be ! 

Our lady, dame Tryamour, 
Bad thou schuldest com speke with here, 
Gyf hyt wer thy wylle, sere, 

Wythoute more sojour. 
Launfal hem grauntede curteyslyche. 
And wente wyth hem myldelyche, 260 

They wheryn whyt as flour ; 
And when they come in the forest an hygh, 
A pavyloun yteld he sygh, 

With merthe and mochell honour. 

The pavyloun was wrouth for sothe, y wys. 
All of werk of Sarsynys, 

The pomelles of crystall ; 
Upon the toppe an em ther stod 
Of bournede gold ryche and good, 

Iflorysched with ryche amall. 270 

Hys eyn wer carbonkeles bryght. 
As the mone they schon* a-nyght. 

That spreteth out ovyr all ; 



* The original reads : "theschon." 



12 Ancient English 



Alysaundre the conquerour, 
Ne kyng Artour, yn hys most honour, 
Ne hadde noon scwych juell. 

He fond yn the pavyloun 

The kynges doughter of Olyroun,* 

Dame Tryamour,t that hyghte, 
Her fadyr was kyng of fayrye, % *8o 

Of occient fer and nyghe, 

A man of mochell myghte. 
In the pavyloun he fond a bed of prys, 
Iheled with purpur bys, 

That semyl^ was of syghte, 
Therinne lay that lady gent. 
That after syr Launfal hedde ysent. 

That lefsome lemede bryght. 

For hete her clothes down she dede, 

Almest to her gerdyl stede, 29° 

Than lay sche uncovert ; 
Sche was as whyt as lylye yn May, 
Or snow that sneweth yn wynterys day. 

He seygh never non so pert . 
The rede rose, whan she ys newe, 
Ayens her rode nes naught of hewe, 

I dar well say yn sert!; 
Her here schon as gold wyre, 
May no man rede here atyre, 

Ne naught well thenke yn hert. 300 



• Oleron is an isle of France, on the coast of Aunis, and of Saintonge. It was 
Icnown to the ancients under the name of Uliarus, as appears from Pliny. Sidonius 
Appollinaris calls it Olario. The maratime laws of France and England hence received 
the appellation they still retain of La ley Olyrm ; and here it was that King Richard 
the first stopped, in his return from the Holy Land, to correct them. In 1047 it 
belonged to Geoffrey de Martel, earl of Anjou, and Agnes hia wife. See Martiniere, 
and Cokes, ^.ti institute, 144. 

f This lady's name is not mentioned in the original. Tryatnour, at the same time, 
is, elsewhere, that of a knight, and the subject of a metrical romance, certainly from 
the French. 

X The following description of a female fay, or fairy, is given in the romance of 
Lancelot du lac, Paris, 1533, fo. C. 8. 

" La damoiselle qui Lancelot forta au lac estoit me fee, et en celluy temps estoient appellee, 
faees toutes celles qui sentremettoient d' encliantements et de charma. . . et sca-uoient la force et 
la -verlu des farotks, des pierres, et de!' herbet, parqmy elles estoient tenue en jeunesse et en 



Metric^ Romances. 1 3 



Sche seyde, Launfal my lemmah swete, 
Al my joye for the y lete, 

Swetyng paramour, 
Ther nys no man yn CristentS, 
That y love so moche as the, 

Kyng, neyther emperour. 
Launfal beheld that swete wyghth, 
All hys love yn her was lyghth, 
And keste that swete flour ; 

And sat adoun her besyde, 
And seyde, Swetyng, what so betyde, 

I am to thyn honour. 

She seyde, Syr knyght, gentyl and hende, 
I wot thy Stat, ord, and ende. 

Be naught aschamed of me ; 
Yf thou wylt truly to me take, 
And alle wemen for me forsake, 

Ryche i wyll make the. 
I wyll the yeve an alner, 
Imad of sylk and of gold cler, 320 

Wyth fayre ymages thre ; 
As oft thou puttest the hond therinne, 
A mark of gold thou schalt wynne. 

In wat place that thou be. 



Also, sche seyde, syr Launfal. 
I yeve the Blaunchard my st« 



my stede lei. 



beaidtCy et en grandes richesses comment elks devisoient,** These fairies, not unfrequent in 
the old romances, united the ideas of power and beauty ; and it is to such a character 
that Shakspeare alludes, where he makes Anthony to say of Cleopatra, 

" To this GREAT FAIRY I'll Commend thy acts.'' 
Milton, too, appears to have had an accurate notion upon this subject : 
" Nymphs of Diana's train, and Naiades, 

And ladies of th' Hesperides, that seem'd, 

Fairer than feign'd of old, or fabl'd since 

Of fairy damsels met in forest wide 

By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, 

Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellenore." 
It is perfect ignorance to confound the fairies of romance either with the pigmy 
race of that denomination, of whom the same great poet has given a beautiful and 
correct description, or with the fanciful creation of Spencer. 



14 Ancient English 



And Gyfre my owen knave ; * 
And of my armes oo pensel, 
Wyth thre ermyns ypented well, 330 

Also thou schak have. 
In werre, ne yn turnement, 
Ne schall the greve no knyghtes dent, 

So well y schall the save. 
Than answerede the gentyl knyght, 
And seyde, Gramarcy, my swete wyght, 

No bettere kepte y have. 



The damesell gan her up sette. 
And bad her maydenes her fette. 

To hyr hondys watyr clere ; 340 

Hyt was ydo without lette. 
The cloth was spred, the bord was sette. 

They wente to have sopere. 
Mete and drynk they hadde afyn, 
Pyement, clare and Reynysch wyn, 

And elles greet wondyr hyt wer ; 
Whan they had sowpeth, and the day was gon. 
They wente to bedde, and that anoon, 

Launfal and sche yn fere. 



For play lytyll they sclepte that nyght, 350 

Tyll on morn hyt was day-lyght, 

She badd hym aryse anoon ; 
Hy seyde to hym, Syr gentyl knyght. 
And thou wilt speke with me any wyght. 

To a derne stede thou gon. 
Well privyly i woll come to the. 
No man alyve ne schall me se, 

As stylle as any ston. 
Tho was Launfal glad and blythe, 
He cowde no man hys joye kythe, 360 

And keste her well good won. 



* No such names occur in the original. Giflet (or Girflet) hflh Mu {alias Do) is 
a character in the oM French romance of Lancelot du lac. 



Metrical Romances. 1 5 



But of othyng, syr knyght, i warne the, 
That thou make no host of me. 

For no kennes mede ; 
And yf thou doost, y warny the before. 
All my love thou hast forlore : 

And thus to hym sche seyde. 
Launfal tok hys leve to wende, 
Gyfre kedde that he was hende. 

And brought Launfal hys stede ; 370 

Launfal lepte ynto the arsoun, 
And rood hom to Karlyoun, 

In hys pover wede. 

Tho was the knyght yn herte at wylle, 
In his chaunber he hyld him stylle, 

All that undern-tyde ; 
Than come ther thorwgh the cyte ten 
Well yharneysyth men 

Upon ten somers ryde. 
Some wyth sylver, some wyth gold, 380 

All to syr Launfal hyt schold. 

To presente hym wyth pryde ; 
Wyth ryche clothes and armure bryght. 
They axede aftyr Launfal the knyght, 

Whar he gan abyde. 

The yong men wer clodeth yn Ynde, 
Gyfre he rood all behynde, 

Up Blaunchard whyt as flour ; 
Tho seyde a boy, that yn the market stod. 
How fer schall all thys good ? 390 

Tell us pur amour. 
Tho seyde Gyfre, Hyt ys ysent 
To syr Launfal yn present, 

That hath leved yn greet dolour. 
Than seyde the boy, Nys he but a wrecche ? 
What thar any man of hym recche f* 

At the meyrys hous he taketh sojour. 



* Mr. Ellis, who published this romance, for the first time at the end of the 
second volume of "the fabliaux or tales" of his deceased friend, G. L. Way, 
Esq., has strangely misconceived this simple passage ; supposing awreche, as it is 



i6 Ancient English 



At the merys hous they gon alyghte. 
And presented the noble knyghte 

Wyth swych good as hym was sent ; 
And whan the meyr seygh that rychesse. 
And syr Launfales noblenesse, 

He held hym self foule yschent. 
Tho seyde the meyr, Syr, pur charyte, 
In halle to day that thou wylt ete with me. 

Yesterday y hadde yment 
At the feste we wolde han be yn same, 
And y hadde solas and game. 

And erst thou were ywent. 

"Syr meyr, god foryelde the, 410 

Whyles y was yn my poverty. 

Thou bede me never dyne : 
Now y have more gold and fe. 
That myne frendes han sent me. 

Than thou and alle dyne." 
The meyr for schame away yede, 
Launfal yn purpure gan hym schrede, 

Ipelvred with whyt ermyne ; 
All that Launfal had borwyth before 
Gyfre, be tayle and be score, 420 

Yald hyt well and fyne. 

Launfal helde ryche festes, 
Fyfty fedde povere gestes, 

That in myscaef wer ; 
Fyfty boughte stronge stedes, 

Fyfty yaf ryche wedes. 

To knyghtes and squyere, 
Fyfty rewardede relygyons. 
Fyfty delyverede povere prysouns, 

And made ham quyt and schere : 430 

Fyfty clodede gestours. 
To many men he dede honours. 

In countreys fer and nere. 

there printed to be one word, and the meaning, " He is not without his revenge (i.e., 
compensation) whatever any man may think of him." The boy, however, mani- 
festly intends our seedy knight no compliment in the question he asks — " Is he 
aught," says he, " but a wretch (or beggarly rascal ?) What does anyone care for 
him ? " 



Metrical Romances. 



Alle the lordes of Karlyoun 

Lette crye a turnement yn the toun, 

For love of syr Launfel, 
And for Blaunchard, hys good stede. 
To wyte how hym wold spede, 

That was ymade so well. 
And whan the day was ycome, 440 

That the justes were yn ynome. 

They ryde out al so snell, 
Trompours gon har hemes blowe, 
The lordes ryden out a-rowe. 

That were yn castell. 



Ther began the turnement, 

And ech knyght leyd on other good dent, 

Wyth mases and wyth swerdes bothe ; 
Me myghte yse some, therfore 
Stedes ywonne, and some ylore, 450 

And knyghtes* wonther wroghth. 
Syth the rounde table was 
A bettere turnement ther nas, 

I dar well say for sothe. 
Many a lorde of Karlyoun 
That day were ybore adoun, 

Certayn withouten othe. 



Of Karlyoun the ryche constable 
Rod to Launfall, without fable, 

He nolde no lengere abyde ; 460 

He smot to Launfal, and he to hym. 
Well Sterne strokes, and well grym, 

Ther wer in eche a syde. 
Launfal was of hym yware. 
Out of his sadell he hym bar. 

To grounde that ylke tyde. 
And whan the constable was bore adoun, 
Gyfre lepte ynto the arsoun. 

And awey he gan to ryde. 

* The original reading is "kyztes." 



Ancient English Romances. 



The erl of Chestere thereof segh, 470 

For wrethe yn herte he was wod negh, 

And rood to syr Launfale, 
And smot hym yn the helm on hegh. 
That the crest adoun flegh, 

Thus seyd the Frenssch talc. 
Launfal was mochel of myght, 
Of hys stede he did hym lyght. 

And bar hym doun yn the dale ; 
Than come ther syr Launfal abowte 
Of Walssche knyghtes a greet rowte, 480 

The numbre y not how fale. 

Than myghte me se scheldes ryve, 
Speres to-breste and to-dryve, 

Behynde and ek before, 
Thorugh Launfal and hys stedes dent, 
Many a knyght, verement, 

To ground was ibore. 
So the prys of that turnay 
Was delyvered to Launfal that day, 

Without oth yswore ; 490 

Launfal rod to Karlyoun. 
To the meyrys hous yn the toun, 

And many a lord hym before. 

And than the noble knyght Launfal 
Helde a feste ryche and ryall. 

That leste fourtenyght, 
Erles and barouns fale 
Semely wer sette yn sale, 

And ryaly were adyght. 
And every day dame Triamour, 500 

Sche com to syr Launfal bour, 

A day when hyt wasnyght. 
Of all that ever wer ther tho, 
Segh he non bot they two, 

Gyfre and Launfal the knyght. 



LAUNFAL. 



PART II. 



A knyght ther was yn Lumbardye,* 
To syr Launfal hadde he greet envye, 

Syr Valentyne he hyghte ; 
He herde speke of syr Launfal, 
That he couth justy well. 

And was a man of mochel myghte. 
Syr Valentyne was wonther strong, 
Fyftene feet he was longe, 

Hym thoghte he brente bryghte 
Bnt he myghte with Launfal pleye, 
In the feld betwene ham tweye. 
To justy, other to fyghte. 



Sio 



Syr Valentyne sat yn hys halle, 
Hys massengere he let ycalle. 

And seyde he moste wende 
To syr Launtal the noble knyght. 
That was yholde so mychel of myght. 

To Bretayne he wolde hym sende ; 
And sey hym, for love of hys lemman, 
Yf sche be any gentyle woman, 

Courteys, fre, other hende. 
That he come with me to juste. 
To kepe hys harneys from the ruste. 

And elles hys manhood schende. 



520 



* This episode, the introduction of the mayor of Carleon, and his daughter, even 
the name of that place, and several other incidents, are entirely owing to the English 
poet, there being nothing of this sort in the original. 



Ancient English 



The messengere ys forth ywent, 530 

To tho hys lordys commaundement, 

He hadde wynde at wylle 
Whan he was over the water ycome. 
The way to Launfal he hath ynome, 

And grette hym with wordes stylle : 
And seyd, Syr, my lord, syr Valentyne, 
A noble werrour, and queynte of gynne. 

Hath me sent the tylle ; 
And prayeth the, for thy lemmanes sake, 
Thou schuldest with hym justes take. 540 

Tho lough Launfal full stylle. 

And seyde, as he was gentyl knyght, 
Thylke day a fourtenyght. 

He wold wyth hym play. 
He yaf the messenger, for that tydyng, 
A noble courser and a ryng, 

and a robe of ray, 
Launfal tok leve at Tryamour, 
That was the bryght berde yn bour. 

And keste that swete may ; 550 

Thanne seyde that swete wyght. 
Dreed the nothyng, syr gentyl knyght. 

Thou schalt hym sle that day. 

Launfal nolde nothyng wyth hym have. 

But Blaunchard hys stede, and Gyfre hys knave. 

Of all hys tayr mayn& ; 
He schyppede and hadde wynd well good. 
And wente over the soke flod. 

Into Lumbardye. 
Whan he was over the water ycome, 560 

Ther the justes schulde be nome. 

In the cyte of Atalye, 
Syr Valentyn hadde a greet ost. 
And syr Launfal abatede her bost, 

Wyth lytyll cumpanye. 

And whan syr Launfal was ydyght, 
Upon Blaunchard hys stede lyght, 
With helm, and spere, and schelde. 



Metrical Romances, 



All that sawe hym yn armes bryght, 

And seyde they sawe never swych a knyght, 570 

That hym with eyen beheld. 
Tho ryde togydere thes knyghtes two, 
That har schaftes to-broste bo, 

And to-scyverede yn the felde ; 
Another cours togedere they rod, 
That syr Launfal helm of glod, 

In tale as hyt ys telde. 



Syr Valentyn logh, and hadde good game, 
Hadde Launfal never so moche schame, 

Beforhond yn no fyght ; ;8o 

Gyfre kedde he was good at nede. 
And lepte upon hys maystrys stede, 

No man ne segh with syght. 
And er than thay togedere mette, 
Hys lordes helm he on sette, 

Fayre and well adyght ; 
Tho was Launfal glad and blythe, 
And donkede Gyfre many syde, 

For hys dede so mochel of myght. 



Syr Valentyne smot Launfal soo, 590 

That hys scheld fel hym fro, 

Anoon ryght yn that stounde ; 
And Gyfre the scheld up hente. 
And broghte hyt hys lord to presente, 

Er hyt cam thoune to grounde. 
Tho was Launfal glad and blythe. 
And rode ayen the thrydde syde. 

As a knyght of mochel mounde ; 
Syr Valentyne he smot so there, 
That hors and men bothe deed were, 600 

Gronyng wyth grysly wounde. 



Alle the lordes of Atalye 
To syr Launfal hadde greet envye, 
That Valentyne was yslawe, 



Ancient English 



And swore that he schold dye, 
Er he wente out of Lumbardye, 

And be hongede, and to-drawe. 
Syr Launfal brayde out hys fachon, 
And as lyght as dew he leyde hem doune, 

In a lytyll drawe, 
And whan he hadde the lordes selayn, 
He went ayen ynto Bretayn, 

Wyth solas and wyth plawe. 



The tydyng com to Artour the kyng, 
Anoon wythout lesyng. 

Of syr Launfales noblesse, 
Anoon a letter to hym sende, 
That Launfal schuld to hym wende. 

At seynt Jonnys masse. 
For kyng Artour would a feste holde, 620 

Of erles and of barouns bolde, 

Of lordynges more and lesse ; 
Syr Launfal schud be stward of halle, 
For to agye hys gestes alle. 

For cowthe of largesse. 



Launfal toke leve at Tryamour, 
For to wende to kyng Artour, 

Hys feste for to agye, 
Ther he fond merthe and moch honour, 
Ladyes that wer well bryght yn bour, 630 

Of knyghtes greet cumpanye. 
Fourty dayes leste the feste, 
Ryche, ryall, and honeste. 

What help hyt for to lye ? 
And at the fourty dayes ende. 
The lordes toke har leve to wende, 

Everych yn hys partye. 



And aftyr mete syr Gaweyn, 
Syr Gyeryes, and Agrafayn, 

And syr Launfal also, 640 



Metrical Romances^ 23 



Wente to daunce upon the grene, 
Unther the tour ther lay the quene, 

Wyth syxty ladyes and mo. 
To lede the daunce Launfale was set, 
For hys largesse he was lovede the bet, 

Sertayn of alle tho ; 
The quene lay out and beheld hem alle, 
I se, sche seyde, daunce large Launfalle, 

To hym than wyll y go. 

Of alle the knyghtes that ye se there, 6;o 

He ys the fayreste bachelere. 

He ne hadde never no wyf ; 
Tyde me good, other ylle, 
I wyll go and wyte hys wylle, 

Y love hym as my lyf. 
Sche tok with her a companye. 
The fayrest that sche myghte aspye, 

Syxty ladyes and fyf, 
And went hem doun anoon ryghtes, 
Ham to pley among the knyghtes, 66 o 

Well stylle wythouten stryf. 

The quene yede to the formeste ende, 
Betwene Launfal and Gauweyn the hende, 

And after her ladyes bryght, 
To daunce they wente alle yn same. 
To se hem play hyt was fayr game, 

A lady and a knyght. 
They hadde menstrales of moch honours, 
Fydelers, sytolyrs, and trompours, 

And elles hyt were unryght ; 670 

Ther they playde, for sothe to say. 
After mete the somerys day, 

All what hyt was neygh nyght. 

And whanne the daunce began to slake. 
The quene gan Launfal to counsell take, 

And seyde yn thys manere : 
Sertaynlyche, syr knyght, 
I have the lovyd wyth all my myght, 

More than thys seven yere. 



24 Ancient English 



But that thou lovye me, 680 

Sertes y dye for love of the, 

Launfal, my lemman dere. 
Than answerede the gentyll knyght, 
I nell be traytour thay ne nyght. 

Be god, that all may stere. 



Sche seyde, Fy on the, thou coward, 
An hongeth worth thou hye and hard. 

That thou ever were ybore, 
That thou lyvest hyt ys pyte, 
Thou lovyst no woman, ne no woman the, 690 

Thow wer worthy forlore. 
The knyght was sore aschamed tho, 
To speke ne myghte he forgo. 

And seyde the quene before : 
I have loved a fayryr woman. 
Than thou ever leydest thy ney upon, 

Thys seven yer and more. 



Hyr lothlokste mayde, wythoute wene, 
Myghte bet be a quene 

Than thou in all thy lyve. 700 

Therfore the quene was swythe wroght, 
Sche taketh hyr maydenes, and forth hy goth, 

Into her tour also blyve. 
And anon sche ley doun yn hyr bedde. 
For wrethe syk sche hyr bredde, 

And swore, so moste sche thryve, 
Sche wold of Launfal be so awreke. 
That all the lond schuld of hym speke, 

Wythinne the dayes fyfe. 



King Artour com fro hunfynge, 710 

Blythe and glad yn all thyng. 

To hys chamber than wente he, 
Anoone the quene on hym gan crye, 
But y be awreke, y schall dye, 

Myn hertc wyll breke athre, 



Metrical Romances. 2 5 



I spak to Launfal yn my game, 
And he besofte me of schame, 

My lemman for to be ; 
And of a lemman hys yelp he made, 
That the lodlokest mayde that sche hadde 720 

Myght be a quene above me. 

Kyng Artour was well worth. 
And be god he swor hys oth, 

That Launfal schuld be slawe ; 
He wente aftyr doghty knyghtes. 
To brynge Launfal anoon ryghtes, 

To be hongeth and to-drawe. 
The knyghtes softe hym anoon. 
But Launfal was to hys chamber gon, 

To han hadde solas and plawe ; 730 

He softe hys leef, but sche was lore. 
As sche hadde warnede hym before, 

Tho was Launfal unfawe. 

He lokede yn hys alner. 

That fond hym spendyng all plener, 

Whan that he hadde nede. 
And ther nas noon, for soth to say. 
And Gyfre was yryde away, 

Up[on] Blaunchard hys stede. 
All that he hadde before ywonne, 740 

Hyt malt as snow ayens the sunne. 

In romaunce as we rede ; 
Hys armur, that was whyt as flour, 
Hyt becom of blak colour. 

And thus than Launfal seyde : 

Alas, he seyde, my creature. 
How schall i from the endure, 

Swetyng Tryamour ? 
All my joye i have forlore. 
And the that me ys worst sore, 750 

Thou blysful berde yn bour.* 

* "These two lines," at least in Mr. EUis's edition, he says, "are rather obscure j" 
but that obscurity was merely occasioned by his printing Than for Thou. The 
perspicacious editor, nevertheless, saw how the original must have been. Another 
typographical error, in that edition, has been the cause of his explaining soth (mis- 
printed yir) by iure. 



26 Ancient English 



He bet hys body and hys hedde ek, 

And cursede the mouth that he wyth spek, 

Wyth care and greet dolour ; 
And, for sorow, yn that stounde, 
Anoon he fell aswowe to grounde ; 

Wyth that come knyghtes four, 

And bond hym, and ladde hym tho, 
Tho was the knyghte yn doble wo, 

Before Artour the kyng. 760 

Than seyde kyng Artour, 
Fyle ataynte traytour ! 

Why madest thou swyche yelpyng? 
That thy lemmannes lodlokest mayde 
Was fayrer than my wyf, thou seyde, 

That was a fowl lesynge ; 
And thou besoftest her before than. 
That sche schold be thy lemman. 

That was mysprowd lykynge. 

The knyght answerede, with egre mode, 770 

Before the kyng ther he stode. 

The quene on hym gan lye : 
" Sethe that y ever was yborn. 
I besofte her here beforn 

Never of no folye. 
But sche seyde y nas no man, 
Ne that me lovede no woman, 

Ne no womannes companye ; 
And i answerede her and sayde. 
That my lemmannes lodlekest mayde 780 

To be a quene was better wordye. 

Sertes, lordynges, hyt ys so, 
I am a redy for to tho 

All that the court wyll loke. 
To say the soth, wythout les. 
All togedere how hyt was. 

Twelve knyghtes wer dryve to boke. 
All they seyde ham betwene. 
That knewe the maners of the quene. 

And the queste toke ; 700 



Metrical Romances. 2 7 



The quene bar los of swych a word, 
That sche lovede lemmannes wythout her lord, 
Har never on hyt forsoke. 

Therfor they seyden alle, 

Hyt was long on the quene, and not on Launfal, 

Therof they gonne hym skere ; 
And yf he myghte hys lemman brynge, 
That he made of swych yelpynge, 

Other the maydenes were 
Bryghtere than the quene of hewe, 800 

Launfal schuld be holde trewe. 

Of that yn all manere ; 
And yf he myghte not brynge hys lef. 
He schud be hongede as a thef. 

They seyden all yn fere. 

Alle yn fere they made proferynge. 
That Launfal schuld hys lemman brynge : 

Hys heed he gan to laye. 
Than seyde the quene, wythout lesynge, 
Yyf he bryngeth a fayrer thynge, 810 

Put out my eeyn gray. 
Whan that wajowr was take on honde, 
Launfal therto two borwes fonde, 

Noble knyghtes twayn, 
Syr Percevall, and syr Gawayn, 
They wer hys borwes, soth to sayn, 

Tyll a certayn day. 

The certayn day, i yow plyght. 
Was twelve moneth and fourtenyght. 

That he schuld hys lemman brynge ; 820 

Syr Launfal, that noble knyght. 
Greet sorow and care yn hym was lyght, 

Hys hondys he gan wrynge. 
So greet sorowe hym was upan, 
Gladlyche hys lyf he wold a for^on, 

In care and in marnyngc ; 
Gladlyche he wold hys hed forgo, 
Everych man therfore was wo. 

That wyste of that tydynge. 



Ancient English 



The certayn day was nyghyng, 830 

Hys borowes hym broght befor the kyng, 

The kyng recordede tho. 
And bad hym bryng hys lef yn syght, 
Syr Launfal seyde that he ne myght, 

Therfore hym was well wo. 
The kyng commaundede the barouns alle, 
To yeve jugement on Launfal, 

And dampny hym to sclo. 
Than sayde the erl of Cornewayle, 
That was wyth ham at that counceyle, 84.0 

We wyllyd naght do so : 

Greet schame hyt wor us alle upon 
For to dampny that gentylman, 

That hath be hende and fre ; 
Therfor, lordynges, doth be my reed, 
Our kyng, we wyllyth another wey lede. 

Out of londiLaunfal schall fle. 
And as they stod thus spekynge. 
The barouns sawe come rydynge 

Ten maydenes bryght of ble, 850 

Ham thoghte they were so bryght and schene, 
That the lodlokest, wythout wene, 

Har quene than myghte be. 

Tho seyde Gawayn, that corteys knyght, 
Launfal, brodyr, drede the no wyght, 

Her Cometh thy lemman hende. 
Launfal answerede, and seyde Y wys, 
Non of ham my lemman nys, 

Gawayn, my lefly frende. 
To that castell they wente ryghte, 860 

At the gate they gonne alyght, 

Befor kyng Artour gonne they wende, 
And bede hym make a redy hastyly 
A fayr chamber for her lady. 

That was come of kinges kende. 

Ho ys your lady ? Artour seyde. 
Ye schull y wyte, seyde the mayde, 
For schc Cometh ryde. 



Metrical Romances. 29 



The kyng commaundede, for her sake. 

The fayryst chaunber for to take, 870 

In hys palys that tyde. 
And anon to hys barouns he sente. 
For to yeve jugemente 

Upon that traytour full of pryde ; 
The barouns answerede, anoon ryght, 
Have we seyn the madenes bryght, 

Whe schull not longe abyde. 

A newe tale they gonne tho. 
Some of wele, and some of wo, 

Har lord the kyng to queme, 880 

Some dampnede Launfal there, 
And some made hym quyt and skere, 

Har tales wer well breme. 
Tho saw they other ten maydenes bryght, 
Fayryr than the other ten of syght. 

As they gone hym deme. 
They ryd upon joly moyles of Spayne, 
With sadell and brydell of Champayne, 

Her lorayns lyght gonne leme. 

They wer yclodeth yn samyt tyre, 8go 

Ech man hadde greet desyre 

To se har clodynge. 
Tho seyde Gaweyn, that curtayse knyght, 
Launfal, her cometh thy swete wyght. 

That may thy bote brynge. 
Launfal answerede, with drery doght, 
And seyde, Alas, y knowe her noght, 

Ne non of all the ofsprynge. 
Forth they wente to that palys. 
And lyghte at the hye deys, 900 

Before Artour the kynge. 

And grette the kyng and quene ck. 
And 00 mayde thys wordes spak. 

To the kyng Artour, 
Thyn halle agrayde and hele the walles, 
Wyth clodes and wyth ryche palles, 

Ayens my lady Tryamour. 



30 Ancient English 



The kyng answerede bedene. 
Well come, ye maydenes schene. 

Be our lord the savyour. 910 

He commaundede Launcelot du Lake to brynge hem 

yn fere. 
In the chamber ther har felawes were, 

Wyth merthe and moche honour. 



Anoon the quene suppose gyle 
That Launfal schulld yn a whyle 

Be ymade quyt and skere, 
Thorugh hys lemman that was commyngc, 
Anon sche seyde to Artour the kyng, 

Syre, curtays yf [thou] were, 
Or yf thou lovedest thyn honour, 920 

I schuld be awreke of that traytour. 

That doth me changy chere, 
To Launfal thou schuldest not spare, 
Thy barouns dryveth the to bysmare. 

He ys hem lef and dere. 



And as the quene spak to the kyng. 
The barouns seygh come rydynge 

A damesele alone, 
Upoon a whyt comely palfrey, 
They saw never non so gay, 9J° 

Upon the grounde gone. 
Gentyll, jolyf, as bryd on bowe, 
In all manere fayr inowe. 

To wonye yn worldly wone. 
The lady was bryght as blosme on brere, 
Wyth eyen gray, wyth lovelych chere, 

Her leyre lyght schoone. 



As rose on rys her rode was red, 
The her schon upon her hed, 

As gold wyre that schynyth bryght ; 940 

Sche hadde a croune upon her molde, 
Of ryche stones and of golde, 



Metrical Romances. 3 1 



That lossom lemede lyght. 
The lady was clad yn purpere palle, 
Wyth gentyll body and myddyl small. 

That semely was of syght ; 
Her mantyll was furryth with whyt ermyn, 
Ireversyd jolyf and fyn, 

No rychere be ne myght. 

Her sadell was semyly sett, 95° 

The sambus wer grene felvet, 

Ipaynted with ymagerye. 
The bordure was of belles. 
Of ryche gold and nothing elles. 

That any man myghte aspye. 
In the arsouns, before and behynde, 
Were twey ftones of Ynde, 

Gay for the maystrye ; 
The paytrelle of her palfraye, 
Was worth an erldome, stoute and gay, 960 

The best yn Lumbardye. 



A gerfawcon sche bar on her hond, 
A softe pas her palfray fond. 

That men her schuld beholde ; 
Thorugh Karlyon rood that lady, 
Twey whyte grehoundys ronne hyr by, 

Har colers were of golde. 
And whan Launfal sawe that lady. 
To alle the folk he gon crye an hy, 

Both to yonge and olde, 97° 

Her, he seyde, comyth my lemman swete, 
Sche myghte me of my balys bete, 

Yef that lady wolde. 



Forth sche wente ynto the halle, 

Ther was the quene and the ladyes alle. 

And also kyng Artour, 
Her maydenes come ayens her tyght. 
To take her styrop whan sche lyght, 

Ot the lady dame Tyramour. 



32 Ancient English 



Sche dede of her mantyll on the flat, 980 

That men schuld her beholde the bet, 

Wythoute a more sojour, 
Kyng Artour gan her sayre grete. 
And sche hym agayn, with wordes swete, 

That were of greet valour. 

Up stod the quene and ladyes stoute, 
Her for to beholde all aboute. 

How evene sche stod upryght ; 
Than wer they wyth her also donne, 
As ys the mone ayen the sonne, 990 

A day whan hyt ys lyght. 
Than seyde sche to Artour the kyng, 
Syr, hydyr i com for swych a thyng. 

To skere Launfal the knyght. 
That he never, yn no folye, 
Besofte the quene of no drurye. 

By dayes ne be nyght. 

Therfor, syr kyng, good kepe thou myne, 
He bad naght her, but sche bad hym. 

Here lemman for to be ; 1000 

And he answerede her and seyde. 
That hys lemmannes lothlokest mayde 

Was fayryr than was sche. 
Kyng Artour seyde, wythoute nothe, 
Ech may ysS that ys sothe, 

Bryghtere that ye be. 
Wyth that dame Tryamour to the quene geth. 
And blew on her swych a breth. 

That never eft myght sche se. 

The lady lep an hyr palfray, loio 

And bad hem alle have good day, 

Sche nolde no lengere abyde ; 
Wyth that com Gyfre all so prest, 
Wyth Launfalys stede out of the forest. 

And stod Launfal besyde. 
The knyght to horse began to sprynge, 
Anoon wythout any lettynge, 

Wyth hys lemman away to rydc ; 



Hnclent lEnglteb flibetdcal 
IRomancee* 

SELECTED AND PUBLISHED BT 

JOSEPH RITSON, 

AND REVISED BY ' 

EDMUND GOLDSMID, F.R.H.S. 

Vol II. 



PART II. 



" Qua priscis memorata Catonibus atqtie Cethegh 
Nunc situs informit premit ac deserta vetustas" 

HORATIUH. 




EMnburdb : 

E. &f G. GOLDSMID. 

1885. 




Metrical Romances . 3 3 



The lady tok her maydenys achon. 
And wente the way that sche hadde cr gon, 1020 
Wyth solas and wyth pryde. 

The lady rod dorth Cardevyle, 
Fer ynto a jolyf ile, 

Olyroun that hyghte ; 
Every yer upon a certayn day, 
Me may here Launfales stede nay, 

And hym se with syght. 
Ho that wyll there axsy Justus, 
To kepe hys armes fro the rustus. 

In turnement other fyght ; 1030 

Dar he never forther gon, 
Ther he may fynde justes anoon, 

Wyth syr Launfal the knyght. 

Thus Launfal, wythouten fable. 

That noble knyght of the rounde table, 

Was take yn to the fayrye ; 
Seththe saw hym yn thys lond no man, 
Ne no more of hym telle y ne can. 

For sothe, wythout lye. 
Thomas Chestre made thys tale, 1040 

Of the noble knyght syr Launfale, 

Good of chyvalrye. 
Jhesus, that ys hevene kyng, 
Yeve us alle hys blessyng. 

And hys modyr Marye ! 




LYBEAUS DISCONUS/ 



This ancient romance is preserved in the Cotton MS. already- 
mentioned, marked Caligula A. II. from which it is here given. 
About the latter half of another copy is in one of Sir Matthew- 
Hales' MSS. in the library of Lincoln's Inn, apparently a different 
translation, but only containing, as usual, numberless various 
readings of little consequence ; a third is said by Dr. Percy to be 
in his folio MS. It was certainly printed before the year 1600, 
being mentioned, by the name of " Libbius," in " Vertue's common 
wealth ; or The highway to honour," by Henry Crosse, published 
in that year ; and is even alluded to by Skelton, who died in 
1529:— 

" And of Sir Libius named Disconius." 

The French original is unknown. 

A story similar to that which forms the principal subject of the 
present poem may be found in the " Voiage and travaile of sir 
John Maundeville'' (London, 1725, 8vo, p. 28). It, likewise, by 
some means, has made its way into a pretendedly ancient 
Northumberland ballad, entitled " The laidly worm of Spindleston- 
heugh," written, in reality, by Robert Lambe, vicar of Norham, 
author of " The history of chess," &c, who had, however, heard 
some old stanzas, of which he availed himself, sung by a maid- 
servant. The remote original of all these stories was, probably. 



* i.e. Le Beau desconnuy or the fair unlcnown. The running-title is ever after 
uniformly Desconus ; but the editor thought himself at liberty to follow the head, 
which bears Dhconus ; and had proceeded too far before he began to doubt the 
propriety of his conduct. It is never Dhconus in the text. Mr. Tyrwhitt, how- 
ever, so prints it. 



36 Ancient English Romances. 

much older than the time of Herodotus, by whom it is related 
(Urania). 

Chaucer, in his "Rime of sire Thopas," among the "romances 
of pris" there enumerated, mentions those 

" Of sire Libeaux and Pleindamour," 

(as Tyrwhitt reads after all the MSS. truly, and the old printed 
copies having Blandamoure, or Blaindamoure) ; upon which the 
learned and ingenious editor of the " Reliques of ancient English 
poetry," in the first three editions of that work, remarks that 
" As sir [Pleindamoure or] Blandamoure, no romance with this 
title has been discovered ; but as the word occurs in that of 
Libeaux, 'tis possible Chaucer's memory deceived him : a remark, 
in which he is implicitly followed by his friend Warton, who says, 
" Of sir Blandamoure, I find nothing more than the name 
occurring in Sir Lebeaux " (History of English Poetry, I, 208) ; 
which he, most certainly, did not there find. "Even the titles of 
our old romances," he says, " such as Sir Blandamoure, betray their 
French extraction." (7^.139.) From the fourth and last edition, 
however, of the said Reliques, we now learn that the word in 
question is neither Pleindamoure nor Blandamoure, but Blaunde- 
mere, which is foreign to the purpose ; neither does any such 
name occur in the present copy ; nor, as the passage is carefully 
suppressed by the right reverend possessor, can one venture to 
imagine whether it be that of a man, a woman, or a horse.* This 
force of tergiversation has, to use the worthy prelate's own words, 
"destroyed all confidence." 

Generally speaking, the Cotton MS. has z for y or gh, and y 
for th. The rhymes also of the third and sixth lines of every two 
stanzas are the same, except in a few instances, which have 
rendered it necessary to disregard that circumstance. 

* This 'venerabUisfimu^ episcopus had the address to persuade a gentleman to whom 
he shewed his folio MS. and whose testimony was to convince the scepticism of the 
present editor, that he actually saw the word Blandamoure, which, it now turns out, 
does not exist ; though he would not suffer him to transcribe the line in which 
it occurred : he wiU easily recollect his name : upon a different occasion he gave 
Mr. Steevens a transcript from the above MS. of the vulgar ballad of Old Simon the 
king, with a strict injunction not to show it to this editor (who suspected, as the fact 
turned out, that he had sophisticated it, in a note to the last edition of Shakespeare), 
which, however, he immediately brought to him. 



LYBEAUS DISCONUS. 



Jhesu Cryst, our savyour. 

And hys modyr, that swete flowr, 

Helpe hem at her nede 
That harkeneth of a conquerour, 
Wys of wytte and whyght werrour, 

And doughty man in dede. 
Hys name was called Geynleyn, 
Beyete he was of syr Gaweyn, 

Be a forest syde ; 
Of stouter knyght, and profytable, lo 

Wyth Artour of the rounde table,* 

Ne herde ye never rede. 

* This famous table, to which were attached one hundred knights, was the 
property of Leodegrance, king of Camelard, who appears to have had it from 
Uther Pendragon, for whom it had been made by the sorcerer Merlin, in token, as 
the book says, of the roundness of the world, (or, according to his own romance), in 
imitation of one established by Joseph of Arimathea, in the name of that which 
Jesus had made at the supper of the twelve apostles, (see vol. I. fo. 40, &c.), and 
came to king Arthur, as the portion of his wife Guenever, daughter of that monarch 
Every knight had his seat, in which was his name, written in letters of gold. One 
of these was "the siege perillous," where no man was to sit but one: an honour 
reserved for Sir Galaad, the son of Lancelot du Lake. " King Arthur," according 
to the history, " stablished all his knights, and gave them lands that were not rich 
of land, and charged them never to do outrage nor murder, and always to fle treason. 
Also, by no means, to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that asked mercy, upon 
paine of forfeiture of their worship, and lordship of king Arthur, for evermore, and 
alway to do ladies, damosels, and gentlewomen, succour upon paine of death. Also 
that no man take no battailes in a wrong quarell for no law, nor for wordly goods. 
Unto this were all the knights sworne of the round table, both old and young.* 
Mart d' Arthur, Part I., C. 59. It is not once mentioned by Geoffrey of Monmouth, 



Ancient English 



Thys Gynleyn was fayr of syght, 
Gentyll of body, of face bryght. 

All bastard yef he were ; 
Hys modyr kepte hym yn clos, 
For douute of wykkede loos. 

As doughty chyld and dere. 



And for love of hys fayr vyys, 

Hys modyr clepede hym Bezufys, 20 

And no nothyr name ; 
And hymself was full nys. 
He ne axede naght, y wys. 

What he hyght, at hys dame. 
As hyt befelle upon a day. 
To wode he wente, on hys play, 

Of dere to have hys game ; 
He fond a knyght whar he lay, 
In armes that wer stout and gay, 

Isclayne, and made full tame. 30 



That chyld dede of the knyghtes wcde. 
And anon he gan hym schrede, 

In that ryche armur ; 
Whan he hadde do that dede, 
To Glastynbery he yede, 

Ther ley the kyng Artour. 



He knelede yn the halle. 
Before the knyghtes alia. 

And grette hem with honour ; 
And seyde, Kyng Artour, my lord, 4.0 

Graunte me to speke a word, 

I pray the pur amour. 



though Master Wace, not twenty years after the time of that unworthy prelate 
thus speaks of it \— 

" Fist Artur la ronde table, 

Dunt Breton dient nieinte fable." 



Metrical Romances. 39 



Than seyde Artour the kyng, 
Anoon without any dwellyng. 

Tell me thyn name uplyght, 
For sethen y was ybore, 
Ne fond y me before 

Non so fayr of syght. 

That chylde seyde, Be seynt Jame, 

I not what ys my name, 50 

I am the more nys ; 
But, whyle y was at hame. 
My modyr, yn her game, 

Clepede me Beaufyz. 
Than seyde Artour the kyng, 
Thys ys a wonder thyng. 

Be god and seynt Denys, 
Whanne he that wolde be a knyght, 
Ne wat noght what he hyght, 

And ys so fayr of vys. 60 



Now wyll y yeve hym a name, 
Before yow alle yn same. 

For he ys so fayr and fre ; 
Be god, and be seynt Jame, 
So clepede hym never hys dame, 

What woman that so hyt be. 
Now clepeth hym alle yn us 
Lybeaux descotius. 

For the love of me ;* 
Than may ye wete a row 70 

The fayre unknowe, 

Sertes so hatte he. 



* Giglan, the natural son of Gawain and the fairy Blanchvallee, appears at the 
court of king Arthur j and, being asked his name, says that his mother (who had 
carefully concealed it) had never called him anything but Beaufih ; in consequence of 
which the queen gives him that of Le he! iticonnu. (Histoire de Giglan, n. d. 4to. g. !.) 
In this romance the lady is called Helen ; but the main incidents bear little or no 
resemblance to those of Lyieaus. See also the episode or adventure of Beaumaim, in 
Sir Thomas Malory's Mori d'Arihur, 

In the Promptorium parvulorum (Har. MS. 221) Befyce is explained yf/ws. 



40 Ancient English 



Kyng Artour anon ryght 
Made hym tho a knyght. 

In the selve day ; 
And yaf hym armes bryght, 
Hym gertte wyth swerde of myght, 

For sothe as y yow say. 
And henge on hym a scheld, 
Ryche and over geld 80 

Wyth a griffon n of say ; 
And hym betok hys fader Gaweyn, 
For to teche hym on the playne, 

Of ech knyghtes play. 

Whan he was knyght imade, 
Anon a bone there he bad, 

And seyde. My lord so fre. 
In herte y were ryght glad, 
That ferste fyghte yf y had. 

That ony man asketh the. 90 

Thanne seyde Artour the kyng, 
I grante the thyn askyng, 

What batayle that so hyt be ; 
But me thyngeth thou art to ying. 
For to done a good fyghtynge. 

Be awght that y can se. 

Wythoute more resoun, 
Duk, erl, and baroun, 

Whesch and yede to mete ;* 

• It was a constant custom, in former times, to wash the hands before sitting 
down to, and after rising up from table. Thus, in Emare, f. 2IJ : — 
** Then the lordes that wer grete. 
They wesh and seten down to mete. 
And folk hem served swyde." 
Again, V. 889 :— 

" Then the lordes, that wer grete, 
Wheschen ayeyn aftyr mete. 
And then com spycerye." 
Again, in 5;> Orpheo, V. 473 : — 

"The steward wasched and wente to mete." 
Again, in Le bone Florence of Romey V. 1009 : — 

"Then they wysche, and to mete be gone." 
Thus, also, in Rohytt Hode and the fatter, the sheriff' says — 
" Let OS was, and go to mete," 



Metrical Romances. 4 1 



Of all manere fusoun, 100 

As lordes of renoun, 

Ynowgh they hadde ete. 
Ne hadde Artour bote a whyle, 
The mountance of a myle, 

At hys table ysete, 
Ther com a mayde ryde, 
And a dwerk be here syde, 

All beswette for hete. 

That mayde was clepede Elene, 

Gentyll, bryght, and schene, 1 10 

A lady messenger ; 
Ther nas contesse, ne quene, 
So semelych on to sene, 

That myghte be her pere. 
Sche was clodeth in Tars, 
Rowme and nodyng skars, 

Pelvred wyth blauner ; 
Her sadell and her brydell, yn fere, 
Full of dyamandys were, 

Melk was her destrere. 120 

The dwerk was clodeth yn Ynde, 
Before and ek behynde, 

Stout he was and pert ; 
Among alle Crystene kende, 
Swych on ne schold no man fynde, 

Hys surcote was overt. 
Hys herd was yelow as ony wax. 
To hys gerdell henge the plex, 

I dar well say yn certe ; 
Hys schon wer with gold ydyght, 130 

And kopeth as a knyght, 

That semede no povert. 

Teandelayn was hys name. 
Well swyde sprong hys fame, 

Be north and be southe ; 
Myche he couthe of game, 
With sytole, sautrye yn same, 

F 



+2 Ancient English 



Harpe, fydele and crouthe. 
He was a noble dysour, 
Wyth ladyes of valour, i^o 

A mery man of mouthe ; 
He spak to that mayde hende, 
To telle thyn erynde, 

Tyme hyt were nouthe. 

That mayde knelede yn halle, 
Before the knyghtes * alle. 

And greet hem wyth honour, 
And seyde, A cas ther ys yfalle. 
Worse wythyn walle 

Was never non of dolour. 150 

My lady of Synadowne 
Is broght yn strong pryson. 

That ys greet of valour, 
Sche prayd the sende her a knyght, 
With herte good and lyght. 

To Wynne her with honour. 

Up start the yonge knyght, 
Hys herte was good and lyght. 

And seyde, Artour, my lord, 
I schall tho that fyght, i6o 

And Wynne that lady bryght, 

Yef thou art trewe of word. 
Than seyde Artour, That ys soth, 
Certayn withoute noth, 

Thereto y here record ; 
God grante the grace and myght, 
To holde up that lady ryghte, 

Wyth dente of thy sword. 

Than gan Elene to chyde 

And seyde, Alas that tyde 1 70 

That i was hyder ysent ! 
Thys word schall spryng * wyde, 
Lord kyng now ys thy threde 

And thy manhod yschent. 

* Original reading : kny^te. -f- Original reading": ^pyng. 



Metrical Romances. 43 



Whan thou schalt sende a chyld 
That ys wytles and wylde. 

To dele thoghty dent, 
And hast knyghtes of mayn, 
Launcelet, Perceval, and Gaweyn, 

Prys yn ech turnement. 180 

Lybeaus desconus answerde* 
Yet was y never aferde 

For doute of mannys awe. 
To fyghte wyth spere or swerd, 
Some dell y have ylerde, 

Ther many men were yslawe. 
He that fleth for drede, 
I wolde, be way or strete, 

Hys body wer to-drawe ; 
I wyll the batayle take, '9° 

And never on forsake, 

As hyt ys Artours lawe. 

Than seyde Artour anon ryght, 
Thou getest none other knyght. 

Be god that boghte me dere, 
Yef the thyngyth hym not wyght,t 
Go gete the on wher thou myght. 

That be of more powere. 
That mayde, for wreththe and hete, 
Nolde neydyr drynke ne cte, 200 

For alle tho that ther were. 
But satte down all thys mayd, 
Tyll the table was ylayd, 

Sche and the dwerke yn fere. 

Kyng Artour yn that stounde, 
Hette of the table rounde. 

Four the beste knyhtes. 
In armes hole and sounde. 
The beste that myghte be founde, 

Arme Lybeaus anoon ryghtes. 210 



* Original reading : amiverede. 
f Original reading : Tefie thyngeth the ml -wyght.. 



44 Ancient English 



And seyde, thorgh helpe of Cryst, 
That in the flome tok baptyste, 

He schall holde all hys heghtes, ' 
And be good champyoun 
To the lady of Synadoun, 

And holde up alle her ryghtes. 



To army thir knyghtes wer fayn, 
The ferste was syr Gaweyn, 

That other syr Percevale, 
The thyrthe syr Eweyn,+ 
The ferthde was syr Agrafrayn ; 

So seyth the Frenzsch tale. 
They caste on hym a scherte of selk, 
A gypell as whyte as melk, 

In that semely sale ; 
And syght an hawberk bryght, 
That rychely was adyght, 

Wyth mayles thykke and smale. 



Gaweyn hys owene syre 

Heng abowte hys swyre 230 

A scheld with a gryffoun, 
And Launcelet hym broght a sper, 
In werre with hym well to were, 

And also a fell fachoun. 
And syr Oweyn hym broght a stede, 
That was good at everych nede, 

And egre as lyoun. 
And an helm of ryche atyre, 
That was stele, and noon yre, 

Percevale sette on hys croun. 240 

The knyght to hors gan spryng, 
And rod to Artour the kyng, 

And seyde, My lord hende, 
Ycf me thy blessynge, 
Anoon wythoute dwellyngc. 

My wyll ys for to weijde. 



Original reading : hstes. -j- Original reading : Gweyn. 



Metrical Romances. ^(.5 



Artour hys hond up haf, 

And hys blessynge he hym yaf. 

As korteys kyng and hende ; 
And seyde, God grante the grace, 250 

And of spade space, 

To brynge the lady out of bende. 



The mayde, stout and gay, 
Lep on her palfray. 

The dwerk rod hyr besyde : 
And tyll the thyrde day 
Upon the knyght alwey 

Ever sche began chyde. 
And seyde, Lorell and kaytyf,* 
They thou wher worth swyche t fyfe, 260 

Ytynt now ys thy pryde ; 
Thys pase before kepeth a knyght. 
That wyth ech man wyll fyght, 

Hys name ys spronge wyde. 



Wylleam Celebronche, 

Hys fyght may no man staunch, 

He ys werrour so wyth ; 
Thorugh herte, other thorugh honche, 
Wyth hys sper he wyll launche 

All that ayens hym ryghtte. 270 

Than seyd Lybeaus desconus. 
Is hys feghtynge swych vys ? 

Was he never yhytte ? 
Whatsoever me betyde. 
To hym y wyll ryde. 

And loke how he sytte. 



• Beaumains, in his expedition to relieve the Lady Liones, is treated in a similar 
manner by her sister Linet j it is a very entertaining adventure. See Mort if Arthur, 
P I, C. 122, &c. See, also, that of the damsel Maledisaunt, and the young knight 
nicknamed La cote male talle P. i, C. 44. 

f Original reading : sityr. 



46 Ancient English 



Forth they ryden all thre, 

Wyth merthe and greet solempnyte, 

Be a castell aunterous, 
And the knyght they gon ys^, 280 

larmeth bryght of ble, 

Up on the Vale perylous. 
He bar a scheld of grene, 
Wyth thre lyouns of gold schene, 

Well prowde and precyous, 
Of wych lengell and trappes 
To dele ech man rappes 

Ever he was fous. 



And whan he hadde of hem syght 

To hem he rod full ryght, 290 

And seyde. Welcome, beaufrer. 
Ho that rydyght her day other nyght 
Wyth me he mot take fyght, 

Other leve hys armes here. 
Well, seyde Lybeaus desconus, 
For love of swete Jhesus, 

Now let us passe skere ; 
We haveth for to wende, 
And beth far from our frende, 

I and thys meyde yn fere. 300 



Wylleam answerede tho. 
Thou myght not skapy so, 

So god gef me good reste. 
We wylleth er thou go 
Fyghte bothe two 

A forlang her be-weste. 
Than seyde Lybeaus, Now y se 
That hyt nell non other be, 

In haste tho dy beste. 
Thou take thy cours wyth schafte, 310 

Yef thou art knyght of crafte, 

For her es myn all preste. 



Metrical Romances. 47 



No lengere they nolde abyde, 
Togedere they gonne ryde, 

Wyth well greet randoun ; 
Lybeaus desconus that tyde 
Smot Wylleam yn the syde 

Wyth a sper feloun. 
And Wylleam sat so faste, 
That hys styropes to-braste, 3*o 

And hys hynder arsoun ; 
Wylleam gan to stoupe 
Mydde hys horses kroupe 

That he fell adoun. 



Hys stede ran away, 
Wylleam ne naght longe lay, 

But start up anoon ryght ; 
And seyde, Be my fay,* 
Before thys ylke day 

Ne fond y non so wyght. 330 

Now my stedf ys ago, 
Fyghte we a fote also, 

As thou art hendy knyght. 
Tho seyde Lybeau desconus, 
Be the love of Jhesus, 

Therto y am full lyght. 



Togedere they gone spryng, 
Fauchouns hy gonne out flyng. 

And foghte fell and faste ; 
So harde they gonne drynge 340 

That feer, without lesynge. 

Out of har helmes braste. 
But Wylleam Selebraunche 
Lybeau desconus gan lonche 

Thorghout that scheld yn haste, 
A kantell fell to grounde, 
Lybeau that ylke stounde 

In hys herte hyt kaste. 

* Original reading : lay. ■[• Original reading: hte. 



48 Ancient English 



Thanne Lybeaus wys and whyght 

Before hym as a noble knyght, 350 

As werrour queynte and sclegh, 
Hawberk and krest yn fyght 
He made fle doun ryght 

Of Wylleames helm and hegh. 
And wyth the poynt of hys swerd 
He schavede Wylleam ys berd. 

And com by flessch ryght neygh ; 
Wylleam sraot to hym tho, 
That hys sword brast a-two, 

That many man hyt seygh. 360 



Tho gan Wylleam to crye, 
For love or Seynt Marye, 

Alyve let me passe ; 
Hyt wer greet vylanye 
To tho a knyght to deye 

Wepeneles yn place. 
Than seyde Lybeaus desconus, 
For love of swete Jhesus, 

Of lyve hast thou no grace, 
But yef thou swere an oth, 370 

Er than we two goth, 

Ryght her before my face. 



In haste knele adoun, 
And swer an my fachoun 

Thou schalt to Artour wende, 
And sey, Lord of renoun, 
As overcome and prysoun, 

A knyght me hyder gan sende. 
That ys yclepede yn us 
Lybeaus desconus, 380 

Unknowe of keth and kende. 
Wylleam on knees doun sat, 
And swor as he hym hat, 

Her forward word and ende. 



Metrical Romances. 49 



Thus departede they alle, 
Wyllyam to Artours halle 

Tok the ryghte way ; 
As leas hyt began falle 
Knyghtes proud yn palle 

He mette that selve day. 390 

Hys susteres sones thre 
Wher the knyghtes fre, 

That weren so stout and gay, 
Whann they sawe Wyllyam blede, 
As men that wolde awyede, 

They made greet deray : 
And seyde, Eem Wylleam, 
Ho hath doun the thys scham. 

That thou bledest so yerne ? 
He seyde. Be seynt Jame, 400 

On that naght to blame, 

A knyght stout and sterne. 

A dwerk ryght her before, 
Hys squyer as he wore, 

And ek a well fayr wyght ; 
But othyng grevyth me sore. 
That he hath do me swore. 

Upon hys fawchon bryght. 
That y ne schall never more, 
Tyll y come Artour before, 410 

Sojourne day ne nyght. 
For prisoner i mot me yeld. 
As overcome yn feld. 

Of hys owene knyght. 
And never ayens hym bere 
Nother scheld ne spere ; 

All this y have hym hyght. 

Thanne seyde the knyghtes thre. 
Thou schalt full well awreke be. 

For sothe wythout fayle ; 420 

He alone ayens us thre 
Nys naght worth a stre 

For to holde batayle. 



Ancient English 



Wend forth, eem, and do thyn othe. 
And the traytour, be the rothe. 

We schuU hym asayle ; 
Right, be godes grace, 
Ther he thys forest passe 

Thaugh he be dykke of mayle. 

Now lete we Wylyam be, 430 

That wente yn hys jornS, 

Toward Artour the kyng ; 
Of these knyghtes thre 
Hearkeneth, lordynges fre, 

A ferly fayr fyghtynge. 
They armede hem full well, 
Yn yren and yn stel, 

Wythout ony dwellyng,* 
And leptede on stedes sterne. 
And after gon yerne, 440 

To sle that knyght so yenge. 

Herof wyste no wyght 
Lybeaus the yonge knyght. 

But rod forth pas be pas ; 
He and that mayde bryght 
Togydere made all nyght 

Game and greet solas. 
Mercy hy gan hym crye 
That hy spak vylanye. 

He foryaf here that trespas. 450 

De dwerke was her squyer. 
And servede her fer and ner. 

Of all that nede was. 

A morn, whan that hyt was day. 
They wente yn har jornay 

Toward Synadowne, 
Thanne saw they knyghtes thre, 
In armes bryght of ble, 

Ryde out of Karlowne. 

* Original reading ; Wellyng. 



Metrical Romances. 5 1 



All yarmed ynto the teth, 460 

Everych swor hys deth, 

And stedes baye browne, 
And cryde to hym full ryght, 
Thef, turne agayn and fyght, 

Wyth the we denketh roune. 



Lybeaus desconus tho kryde, 
I am redy to ryde 

Ayens yew all ysame. 
He prikede, as pryns yn pryde, 
Hys stede yn bothe syde, 47° 

In ernest and yn game. 
The eldest brother gan here 
To syr Lybeaus a spere, 

Syr Gower was hys name, 
But Lybeaus hym so nygh. 
That he brak hys thegh. 

And ever efte he was lame. 



The knyght gronede for payne, 
Lybeaus wyth myght and mayne, 

Felde hym flat adownn ; 480 

The dwerk Teondeleyn 
Tok the stede be the rayne, 

And lep ynto the arsoun : 
And rod hym also sket 
Ther that the mayde set. 

That was fayr of fasoun, 
Tho lough that mayde bryght. 
And seyde Thys yonge knyght, 

Ys chose for champyon. 



The myddell brother com yerne, 490 

Upon a stede sterne, 

Egre as lyoun, 
Hym thoghte hys body wold berne. 
But he myght also yerne 

Fell Lybeaus adoun. 



52 Ancient English 



As werrour out of wytte, 
Lybeaus on helm he smyt. 

With a fell fachoun, 
Hys strok so hard he set, 
Thorgh helm and basnet, 5°° 

That sword tochede hys croun. 

Tho was Lybeaus agreved, 
Whan he feld on hedde 

That sword with egre mode, 
Hys brond abowte he wevede, 
All that he hyt he clevede. 

As werrour wyld and wode. 
Alias, he seyde tho, 
Oon ayens two 

To fyghte that ys good. 5'° 

Wei faste they smyte to hym, 
And he wyth strokes grym. 

Well harde ayens hem stode. 

Tho sawe these knyghtes, 
They ne hadde no myghtes 

To feghte ayens her fo. 
To syr Lybeaus they gon up-yelde 
Bothe har sperys and har schelde, 

And mercy cryde hym tho. 

Lybeaus answerede. Nay, 520 

The ne askapeth so away, 

Be god that schop mankende ; 
Thou and thy brederen tway* 
Schull plyght her your fay. 

To kyng Artour to wende ; 
And sey. Lord of renounes. 
As overcome and prysouns, 

A knyght us hyder gan sende. 
To dwelle yn your bandown,t 
And yelde you tour and toun, 530 

Ay wythouten ende. 

* Original reading : fwaym^ -(- Original reading : hand-won. 



Metrical Romances. 53 



And but ye wyllen tho so 
Sertes y schall you slo, 

Er than hyt be nyght ; 
The knyghtes sweren tho 
They wolde to Artour go. 

And trewes ther they plyght. 
Thus departede day, 
Lybeaus and that may, 

As they hadden tyght ; 540 

Tyll the thyrde day 
They ryde yn game and play, 

He and that mayde bryght : 

And ever they ryden west. 
In that wylde forest. 

Toward Synadowne ; 
They nyste what ham was best 
Taken they wolde reste. 

And myght not come to toun ; 
A logge they dyghte of leves, 550 

In the grene greves. 

With swordes bryght and broune ; 
Therinne they dwellede all nyght. 
He and that mayde bryght. 

That was so fayr of fasoun ; 

And the dwerk gan wake. 
For noo thef ne schuld take 

Har hors away with gyle ; 
For drede he gan to quake, 
For gret fer he sawe make 560 

Thannes half a myle. 
Arys, he seyde, yong knyght, 
To horse that thou wer ydyght. 

For dowte of peryle ; 
For i here greet bost. 

And fer smelle rost. 

Be god and seynt Gyle. 
Lybeaus was stout and fer. 
And lepte on hys destrer, 

Hente schelde and spere ; 570 



54 Ancient English 



And rod toward the fyer, 
And whanne he nyghede ner, 

Two geauntes he saw ther. 
That on was red and lothlych, 
And that other swart as pych, 

Grysly bothe of chere ; 
That oon held yn hys barme 
A mayde yclepte yn hys arme. 

As bryght as blosle on brere. 

The rede geaunt sterne 580 

A wylde boor gan terne 

Abowte upon a spyte ; 
That fyer bryght gan berne, 
The mayde cryde yerne 

That som man schuld her ther wete: 
And seyde, Wellaway ! 
That ever i bode thys day, 

With two fendes to sette ! 
Now help, Marie mylde. 
For love of thy chylde, 590 

That y be naght foryette ! 

Than seyde Lybeaus, Be seynt Jame, 
To save thys mayde fro schame 

Hyt wer a fayr apryse ; 
To fyght with bothe yn same 
Hyt wer no chyldes game, 

That beth so grymme and gryse. 
He tok hys cours wyth schafte. 
As knyght of kende crafte. 

And rod be ryght asyse ; 600 

The blake geaunt he smot smert, 
Thorgh the lyver, longe, and herte. 

That never he myghte aryse. 

Tho flawe that mayde schene, 
And thankede hevene quene. 

That swych socour her sente ; 
Tho com that mayde Elene, 
Sche and her dwerk y mene. 

And be the hond her hente ; 



Metrical Romances. 5 5 



And ladde her ynto the greves, 610 

Into that logge of leves, 

Wyth well good talent ; 
And prayde swete Jhesus, 
Helpe Lybeaus desconus, 

That he wer naght yschent. 

The rede geaunt there 

Smot to Lybeaus wyth the bore. 

As man that wold awede ; 
The strokes he sette so sore. 
That hys cursere therfore, 620 

Deed to grounde yede. 
Lybeaus was redy boun, 
And lepte out of the arsoun, 

As sperk thogh out of glede ; 
And egre as a lyoun, 
He faught wyth hys fachoun, 

To quite the geauntes mede. 

The geaunt ever faught, 
And at the seconde draught, 

Hys spyte brak a two ; 630 

A tre yn honde he kaught. 
As a man that wer up-sawght 

To fyghte ayens hys fo. 
And wyth the ende of the tre 
He smot Lybeaus scheld a thre, 

And tho was Lybeaus well wo ; 
And er he eft the tre up haf, 
A strok Lybeaus hym yaf, 

Hys ryght arm fell hym fro. 

The geaunt fell to grounde 64.0 

Lybeaus that ylke stounde 

Smot of hys hedde ryght 
Hym that he yaf er wounde 
In that ylke stounde. 

He servede so aplyght. 
He tok the heddes two, 
And yaf hem the mayden tho. 

That he hadde fore that fyght ; 



56 Ancient English 



The mayde was glad and blythe. 
And thonkede god fele syde 650 

That ever was he made knyght. 

Then seyde Lybeaus, Gentyl dame, 
Tell me what ys thy name, 

And wher thou wer ybore. 
Schc seyde, Be seynt Jame, 
My fader ys of ryche name, 

Woneth her before. 
An erl, an hold hore knyght. 
That hath be a man of myght, 

Hys name ys syr Autore ; 660 

Men clepeth me Vyolette, 
For me these geauntes besette 

Our castell full yore. 

Yesterday yn the mornynge 
Y wente on my playnge, 

And noon evell ne thoughte, 
The geauntes, wythout lesynge. 
Out of a kave gonne sprynge. 

And to thys fyer me brought. 
Of hem y hedde ben yschent, 670 

Ne god me socour hadde y sent, 

That all thys world wrought ; 
He yeldede thys good dede 
That for us gan blede, 

And wyth hys blod us bought. 

Without ony more talkynge 
To horse they gon sprynge. 

And ryde forth all yn same ; 
He tolde the erl tydynge 
How he wan yn fyghtynge 680 

Hys chyld fram wo and schame. 
The two heddes wer ysent 
Artour the kyng to present. 

With mochell gle and game ; 
Thanne ferst yn court aros 
Lybeaus desconus los, 

And hys gentyll fame. 



Metrical Romances. 57 



The erl Autore also blyve 

Profrede hys doftyr hym to wyve, ' 

Vyolette that may ; 690 

And kasteles ten and fyve 
And all after hys lyve 

Hys lond to have for ay. 
Than seyde Lybeaus desconois, 
Be the love of swete Jhesus, 

Naught wyve yet y ne may ; 
I have for to vi^ende 
Wyth thys mayde so hende. 

And therefore have good day. 

The erl, for hys good dede, 700 

Yaf hym ryche wede, 

Scheld and armes brycht ; 
And also a noble stede. 
That doughty was of dede, 

In batayle and yn fyght. 
They ryde forth all thre 
Toward the fayre cyth, 

Kardevyle for soth hyt hyght ; 
Thanne sawe they yn a park 
A castell stout and stark, 710 

That ryally was adyght. 

Swych saw they never non, 
Imade of lyme and ston, 

Ikarneled all abowte ; 
Oo, seyde Lybeaus, be seynt Jon, 
Her wer a wordly won 

For man that wer yn dowte. 
Tho logh that mayde bryght, 
And seyde hyt owyth a knyght 

The beste her abowte ; 720 

Ho that wyll wyth hym fyght. 
Be hyt be day other nyght. 

He doth hym lowe lowte. 

For love of hys lemman, 
That ys so fayr a woman. 
He hath do crye and grede ; 



Ancient English 



Ho that bryngeth a fayryr oon, 
A jerfaukon whyt as swan 

He schall have to made. 
Yef sche ys naght so bryght, 730 

Wyth Gyfroun he mot fyght, 

And ye may not spede ; 
Hys hed schall of be raft. 
And sette upon a sper schaft. 

To se yn lengthe and brede. 

And that thou mayst se full well 
Ther stant yn ech a karnell 

An hed other two upryght ; 
Than seyde Lybeaus also snell, 
Be god and seynt Mychell, 7^0 

Wyth Gyffroun y schall fyght ; 
And chalaunge the jerfawncon. 
And sey that y have yn this toun, 

A lemman to so bryght ; 
And yef he her wyll se, 
I wyll hym schewy the, 

Be day other be nycht. 

The dwerk seyde. Be Jhesus, 
Gentyll Lybeaus desconus. 

That wer a greet peryle, 750 

Syr Gyffroun le flowdous 
In fyghtyng he hath an us 

Knyghtes to begyle. 
Lybeaus answerede thar 
Therof have thou no kar ; 

Be god and be seynt Gyle, 
I woll ys6 hys face 
Er y westward pace 

From thys cyt^ a myle. 

Wythoute a more resoune 760 

They tok har [yn] the toune. 

And dwellede stylle yn pese ; 
A morn Lybeaus was boun 
For to wynne renoun, 

And ros, wythoute les : 



Metrical R omances. 5 9 



And armede hym full sure. 
In that selve armure 

That erl Autores was ; 
Hys stede he began stryde, 
The dwerk rod hym besyde, 770 

Toward that prowde palys. 

Syr Gyffroun le fludous 
Aros as was hys uus. 

In the morn-tyde ; 
And whan he com out of hys hous, 
He saw Lybeaus desconus 

Com prykynde as pryns yn pryde, 
Wythoute a more abood 
And ayens hym he rod, 

And thus to hym he cryde, 780 

Wyth voys that was schrylle ;* 
Comyst thou for good, other for ylle ? 

Tell me, and naght me hyde. 

Than seyde Lybeaus al so tyte. 
For y have greet delyte 

Wyth the for to fyght ; 
For thou scyst greet despyte 
That woman half so whyt, 

As thy lemman be ne myght ; 
And y have on yn toune, 790 

Fayryr of fassyoune. 

In clothes whan sche ys dyght ; 
Therfore thy gerfawcoun 
To Artour the kyng wyth kroun 

Bryng y schall wyth ryght. 

Than seyde Gyfroun, Gentyll knyght, 
How scholl we preve thys syght, 

Whych of hem fayrer be ? 
Lybeaus answerede aplyght. 
In Cardevyle cyte ryght, 800 

Ther ech man may hem sc : 

* Original reading : schylU. 



6o Ancient English 



And bothe they schull be sette 
A myddes the market. 

To loke on bothe bond and fre ; 
Yf my lemman ys broun, 
To Wynne the gerfawcoun 

Fyghte y wyll wyth the. 

Than seyde Gyfroun, al so snell, 
To all thys y graunte well, 

Thys day at underne-tyde ; 8lo 

Be god and be seynt Mychell, 
Out of thys castell 

To Karlof i schall ryde. 
Har gloves up they held, 
In forward as y teld. 

As princes prowde yn pryde ; 
Syr Lybeaus al so snell 
Rod hom to hys castell. 

No lenger* he nolde abyde ; 

And commande mayde Elene, 820 

As semelekest on to sene, 

Buske her and make her boun : 
" I say, be hevene quene, 
Gyffrouns lemman schene 

This day schall come to toun : 
And bothe men you schall yse, 
A mydward the cyt^. 

Both body and fasoun ; 
Yef thou be naght so bryght, 
Wyth GyiFroun i mot fyght, . 830 

To Wynne the Gerfaucoun." 

Mayde Elene al so tyte. 
In a robe of samyte 

Anoon sche gan her tyre, 
To tho Lybeaus profyte 
In kevechers whyt, 

Arayde wyth gold wyre. 



* Original reading : leng. 



Metrical Romances. 6i 



A velvwet mantyll gay, 
Pelvred wyth grys and gray, 

Sche caste abowte her swyre, 840 

A sercle upon her molde, 
Of stones and of golde. 

The best yn that enpyre. 

Upon a pomely palfray 
Lybeaus sette that may. 

And ryden forth all thre ; 
Thanne ech man gan to say. 
Her Cometh a lady gay. 
And semelych on to se. 

Into the market sche rode, 850 

And hovede and abode, 

A mydward the cyth ; 
Than sygh they GyfFroun come ryde. 
And two squyeres be hys syde, 

Wythout a more mayne. 

He bar the scheld of goules. 
Of sylver thre whyte oules. 

Of gold was the bordure, 
Of the selve colours. 
And of non other flowres, 860 

Was lyngell and trappure. 
Hys squyer gan lede 
Before hym upon a stede 

Thre schaftes good and sure ; 
That other bar redy boun 
The whyte gerfawcoun, 

That leyd was to wajour. 

After hym com ryde 
A lady proud yn pryde, 

Was clodeth yn purpel palle ; 870 

That folk com fer and wyde 
To se her bak and syde, 

How-gentyll sche was and small. 
Her mantyll was rosyne, 
Pelvred with ermyne. 

Well ryche and reall ; 



62 Ancient English 



A sercle upon her molde. 
Of stones and of golde, 
Wyth many a juall. 

As the rose her robe was red, ggo 

The her sehon on hyr heed, 

As gold wyre schyneth bryght ; 
Ayder browe as selken threde, 
Abowte yn lengthe and yn brede, 

Hyr nose was strath and ryght. 
Her eyen gray as glas, 
Melk-whyt was her* face. 

So seyde that her sygh wyth syght ; 
Her swere long and small. 
Her beawte telle all 

No man wyth mouth ne myght. 



890 



Togedere men gon hem bryng 
A mydward the chepyng, 

Har beawte to dyscrye ; 
They seyde, olde and yenge, 
For soth wythoute lesyng,, 

Betwene hem was partye. 
Gyffrouns lemman ys clere 
As ys the rose yn erbere. 

For soth and naght to lye ; 900 

And Elene, the messengere, 
Semeth but a lavendere 

Of her norserye. 

Than seyde Gyffroun le fludous, 
Syr Lybeaus desconus, 

Thys hauk thou hast forlore ; 
Than seyde Lybeaus desconus, 
Nay swhych nas never myn uus, 

Justy y well therfore. 
And yef thou berest me doun, 9*0 

Tak my heed the fawkoun. 

As forward was before ; 



' Original reading : ie. 



Metrical Romances. 63 

And yf y here doun the. 

The hauk schall wende wyth me, 

Maugre thyn heed hore : 
What help mo tales telld ? 
They ryden yn to the feld. 

And wyth ham greet party e ; 
Wyth coronals stef and stelde, 
Eyther smyt other in the schelde, 920 

Wyth greet envye. 
Har saftes breke asonder, 
Har dentes ferthe as thonder. 

That Cometh out of the skye ; 
Taborus and trompours, 
Herawdes goode descoverours,* 

Har strokes gon descrye. 

Syr GyiFroun gan to speke, 

Breng a schaft that nell naght breke. 

A schaft wyth a cornall ; 930 

Thys yonge ferly frek 
Ys yn hys sadell steke. 

As stone yn castell wall. 
Thaugh he wer whyght werrour. 
As Alysander, other Artour, 

Launcelot, other Percevale, 
I wyll do hym stoupe 
Over hys horses croupe, 

And yeve hym evele fall. 

The knyghtes bothe two, 940 

Togydere they ryden tho, 

With well greet raundoun ; 
Lybeaus smot GyiFroun so. 
That hys scheld fell hym fro. 

In that feld adoun. 
The lough all that ther wes, 
And seyde wythoute les, 

Duke, erl, and baroun. 
That yet never they ne seygh 
Man that myghte dreygh 950 

To justy wyth Gyffroun. 

* Original reading ; descovenus. 



62 Ancient English 



A sercle upon her molde, 
Of stones and of golde, 
Wyth many a juall. 

As the rose her robe was red, 880 

The her sehon on hyr heed, 

As gold wyre schyneth bryght ; 
Ayder browe as selken threde, 
Abowte yn lengthe and yn brede, 

Hyr nose was strath and ryght. 
Her eyen gray as glas, 
Melk-whyt was her * face. 

So seyde that her sygh wyth syght ; 
Her swere long and small, 
Her beawte telle all 890 

No man wyth mouth ne myght. 

Togedere men gon hem bryng 
A mydward the chepyng, 

Har beawte to dyscrye ; 
They seyde, olde and yenge. 
For soth wythoute lesyng, 

Betwene hem was partye. 
Gyffrouns lemman ys clere 
As ys the rose yn erbere. 

For soth and naght to lye ; 900 

And Elene, the messengere, 
Semeth but a lavendere 

Of her norserye. 

Than seyde Gyffroun le fludous, 
Syr Lybeaus desconus, 

Thys hauk thou hast forlore ; 
Than seyde Lybeaus desconus, 
Nay swhych nas never myn uus, 

Justy y well therfore. 
And yef thou berest me doun, nto 

Tak my heed the fawkoun, 

As forward was before : 



* Original reading : A-. 



Metrical Romances. 63 

And yf y bere doun the. 

The hauk schall wende wyth me, 

Maugre thyn heed hore : 
What help mo tales telld ? 
They ryden yn to the feld. 

And wyth ham greet partye ; 
Wyth coronals stef and stelde, 
Eyther smyt other in the schelde, 920 

Wyth greet envye. 
Har saftes breke asonder, 
Har dentes ferthe as thonder. 

That Cometh out of the skye ; 
Taborus and trompours, 
Herawdes goode descoverours,* 

Har strokes gon descrye. 

Syr Gyffroun gan to speke, 

Breng a schaft that nell naght breke. 

A schaft wyth a cornall ; 930 

Thys yonge ferly frek 
Ys yn hys sadell steke. 

As stone yn castell wall. 
Thaugh he wer whyght werrour, 
As Alysander, other Artour, 

Launcelot, other Percevale, 
I wyll do hym stoupe 
Over hys horses croupe, 

And yeve hym evele fall. 

The knyghtes bothe two, 9^0 

Togydere they ryden tho, 

With well greet raundoun ; 
Lybeaus smot Gyffroun so, 
That hys scheld fell hym fro, 

In that feld adoun. 
The lough all that ther wes, 
And seyde wythoute les, 

Duke, erl, and baroun. 
That yet never they ne seygh 
Man that myghte dreygh 950 

To justy wyth Gyffroun. 

* Original reading : desamerous. 



64 Ancient English 



Gyffroun hys hors outryt, 
And was wode out of wyt, 

For he myghte naght spede ; 
He rod agayn as tyd, 
And Lybeaus so he smyt, 

As man that wold awede. 
But Lybeaus sat so faste, 
That Gyffroun doun he caste, 

Bothe hym and hys stede ; 960 

Gyffrounys legge * to-brak. 
That men herde the krak, 

Aboute yn lengthe and brede. 

Tho seyde all tho that ther wore, 
That Gyffroun hadde forlore, 

The whyte gerfawkoun ; 
To Lybeaus thay hym bore, 
And wente, lasse and more, 

Wyth hym ynto the toune. 
Syr Gyffroun, upon hys scheld, 970 

Was ybore hom fram the feld, 

Wyth care and rufull roun ; 
The gerfawkoun ysent was. 
Be a knyght that hyght Gludas, 

To Artour kyng wyth kroun. 

And wryten all the dede 
Wyth hym he gan lede. 

The hauk how that he wan ; 
Tho Artour herde hyt rede, 
To hys knyghtes he seyde, 980 

Lybeaus well werry-kan. 
He hath me sent the valour 
Of noble dedes four 

Sethe he ferst began ; 
Now wyll y sende hym tresour, 
To spendy wyth honour, 

As falleth for swych a nian. 

And hundred pound honest 
Of floryns wyth the best 

He sente to Cardelof than ; 990 



* Original reading : rcggt. 



Metrical Romances. 65 



Tho Lybeaus helde hys feste, 
That fourty. dayes leste, 

Of lordes of renoun. 
Than Lybeaus and that may 
Token hyr ryghte way 

Toward Synadowne. 
And fayre her leve token thay. 
To wende ynto another contray, 

Of duk, erl and baroun ; 
As they ryden an a lowe, 1000 

Homes herde they blowe, 

Ther unther the doune ; 

And houndes ronnc greet and smale, 
Hontes grette yn the vale 

The dwerke seyde that drowe 
For to telle soth my tale, 
Fele yeres ferely fale 

That horn well y thede knowe. 
Hym blowyth syr Otes de Lyle, 
That servede my lady som whyle, loio 

In her semyly sale, 
Whanne he was take wyth gyle 
He flawe for greet peryle 

West ynto Wyrhale. 

As they ryde talkyngc 

A rach ther come flyngynge 

Overtwert the way, 
Thanne seyde old and yynge, * 
From her ferst gynnynge, 

They ne sawe hond never so gay. 1020 

He was of all colours 
That man may se of flours, 

Betwene Mydsomer and May ; 
That mayde sayde al so snell, 
Ne saw y never no juell 

So lykynge to my pay : 



* Original reading : Tnge. 
I 



66 Ancient English 



God wold that y hym aughte ! 
Lybeaus anoon hym kaghte, 

And yaf hym to mayde Elene ; 
They ryden forth all yn saght, lojo 

And tolde how knyghtes faght. 

For ladyes bryght and schene. 
Ne hadde they ryde but a whyle, 
The mountance of a myle. 

In that forest grene. 
They sawe an hynde com styke, 
And two grehoundes ylyke. 

Be that rech that y er of mene. 



They hovede unther a lynde. 

To se the cours of the hynde, 1040 

Lybeaus and hys fere ; 
Thanne seygh they come byhynde 
A knyght iclodeth yn* Ynde, 

Upon a bay destrere. 
Hys bugle he gan to blowe, 
For hys folk hyt schuld knowe 

In what stede he wer ; 
He seyde to hem that throwe, 
Syr, that rach was myn owe, 

Ygon for sevene yere : 1050 



Frendes, leteth hym go. 
Lybeaus answerede tho. 

That schall never betyde. 
For wyth myn handes two 
I hym yaf that mayde me fro 

That hoveth me besyde. 
Tho seyde ser Otes de Lyle, 
Than artow yn peryle, 

Byker yef thou abyde. 
Tho seyde Lybeaus, Be seynt Gyle, 1060 

I ne yeve naght of thy gyle, 

Cherll, though thou chyde. 



* Original reading : y. 



Metrical Romances. 67 



Then seyde syr Otes de Lyle, 
Syr, thyn wordes beth fyle, 

Cherll was never my name ; 
My fader an erll was whyle, 
The countesse of Karlyle 

Certes was my dame. 
Wer ych yarmed now, 
Redy as art thou, 1670 

We wolde feyghte yn same ; 
But thou the rach me leve, 
Thou pleyyst, er hyt be eve, 

A wonder wylde game. 

Tho seyde Lybeaus also prest, 
Therof tho thy best, 

Thys rach schall wyth me wendc' 
They tok har way ryght west, 
In that wylde forest, 

Ryght as the dwerk hem kende. 1080 

The lord wyth greet errour 
Rod horn to hys tour. 

And after hys frendes sende. 
And tolde hem anon ryghtes 
That on of Artourys knyghtes 

Schamelych gan hym schende ; 

And hadde hys rach ynome, 
Thanne seyde alle and some. 

The traytour schall be take, 
And never ayen hom come, 1090 

Thaugh he wer thoghtyer gome. 

Than Launcelet du Lake. 
Tho dyghte they hem all to armes, 
Wyth swerdes and wyth gysarmes, 

As werre schold awake ; 
Knytes and squyeres, 
Lepte on her destrerys. 

For har lordes sake. 

Upon an hell well hyghe 

Lybeaus ther they syghe, 1 100 

He rod pas be pas ; 



68 Ancient English 



To hym they gon crye, 
Traytour, thou schalt dye, 

For thy wykkede trespas. 
Syr Lybeaus ayen beheld 
How fulfelde was the feld, 

So greet peple ther was ; 
He seyde, Mayde Elene, 
For our rach, y wene, 

Us Cometh a karfull cas. 1 1 lO 

I rede that ye drawe 
Into the wode schawe, 

Your heddes for to hyde ; 
For I am swyde fawe, 
Thaugh ych schulde be slawe, 

Bykere of hem y woll abyde. 
Into the wode they rode, 
And Lybeaus theroute abothe. 

As aunterous knyght yn pryde ; 
Wyth bowe, and wyth arblaste, i izo 

To hym they schote faste. 

And made hym woundes wyde. 

Lybeaus stede ran, 

And bar doun hors and man, 

For nothyng nolde he* spare ; 
That peple seyde than, 
Thys ys fend Satan, 

That mankende wyll forfare. 
For wham Lybeaus arafte 
After hys ferste drawghtc 1 130 

He slep for evermare : 
But sone he was besette 
As theer ys yn a nette 

Wyth grymly wondes sare. 

Twelf knyghtes all prest 
He saw come yn the forest. 
In armes cler and bryght ; 



* Original reading : lier. 



Metrical Romances. 69 



Al day they hadde yrest, 
And thought* yn that forest, 

To sle Lybeaus the knyght. 11 40 

Of sute were all twelfe. 
That on was the lord hymselfe, 

In ryme to rede aryght ; 
They smyte to hym all at ones, 
And thoghte to breke hys bones, 

And felle hym doun yn fyght. 

Tho myghte men her dynge, 
And swordes lowde rynge. 

Among hem all yn fere ; 
So harde they gonne thrynge, 1150 

The sparkes gonne out sprynge, 

Fram scheld and helmes clere. 
Lybeaus slough of hem thre. 
And the fourth gonne to fle. 

And thorst naght nyghhe hym nerc, 
The lord dwellede yn that schour. 
And hys sones four, 

To selle har lyves there. 

Ther roune tho rappes ryve. 

He ayens hem fyve, 1 1 60 

Faught as he were wod ; 
Neygh doun they gonne hym dryvc, 
As water doth of clyve. 

Of hym ran the blode. 
As he was neygh yspylt, 
Hys swerd brast yn the hylt, 

Tho was he mad of mode ; 
The lord a strok hym sette, 
Through t helm and basnettc. 

That yn the scheld hyt stode. 1170 



Aswogh he fell adoun. 
And hys hynder arsoun. 
As man that was mate ; 



* Original reading : tlwugh. f Original reading : tlmugh. 



70 Ancient English 



Hys fomen were well boun. 
To perce hys acketoun, 

Gypell, mayl, and plate. 
As he gan sore smerte. 
Up he pullede hys herte. 

And keverede of hys state ; 
An ex he hente all boun, i 180 

At hys hynder arsoun, 

Allmest hym thoughte to late. 

Than besterede he hym as a knygth, 
Thre stedes heoddes doun ryght. 

He smot at strokes thre ; 
The lord saw that syght, 
And on hys courser lyght, 

Awey he gan to fle, 
Lybeaus no lenger abode. 
But aftyr hym he rode, 1 190 

And unther a chesteyn tre, 
Ther he hadde hym quelthe. 
But the lord hym yelde. 

At hys wylle to be. 

And be sertayne extente 
Tresour, lond, and rente, 

Castell, halle, and bour, 
Lybeaus therto consente 
In forward * that he wente 

To the kyng Artour, 1 200 

And seye. Lord of renoun, 
As overcome and prysoun 

Y am to thyne honour. 
The lord grauntede to hys wylle 
Bothe lowthe and stylle. 

And ledde hym to hys bour. 

Anoon that mayde Elene, 

Wyth gentyll men fyftene 

Was fet to that castell 



\ Original reading : savjard. 



Metrical Romances. 71 



Sche and the dwerfce bydene 12 10 

Tolde dedes kene 

Of Lybeaus how hyt fell. 
Swyche presentes four 
He hadde ysent kyng Artour, 

That he wan fayr and well ; 
The lord was glad and blythe, 
And thonketh fele syde 

God and seynt Mychell. 

Now reste we her awhyle 

Of syr Otes de Lyle, 1220 

And telle we other tales. 
Lybeaus rod many a myle, 
Among aventurus fyle, 

In Yrland and yn Wales. 
Hyt befell yn the month of June, 
Whan the fcnell hangeth yn toun, 

Grene yn semely sales, 
Thys somerys day ys long, 
Mery ys the fowles song. 

As* notes of the nyghtyngales. 1230 

That tyme Lybeaus com ryde, 
Be a ryver syde. 

And saw a greet cyte, 
Wyth palys prowd yn pryde. 
And castelles heygh and wyde, 

Wyth gates greet plente. 
He axede what hyt hyght. 
The mayde seyde anon ryght, 

Syr, y telle hyt the, 
Men clepeth hyt Yledor.t 124° 

Her hath be fyghtynge more 

Thanne owher yn any countr^. 

For a lady of prys, 
Wyth rode rede as rose on ryse, 
Thys countre ys yn dowte ; 



* Original reading : A. 

f VhU ior, the Isle of Gold, or Golden I«land ; but whether designed for French 
or English seems rather doubtful. 



indent Eiiglish 



A geaunt hatte Maugys, 
Nowher hys per ther nys, 

Her hathe be leyde abowte. 
He ys blak as ony pych. 
Nower ther ys non swych, 1250 

Of dede sterne and stoute ; 
Ho that passeth the bregge 
Hys arraes he mot legge, 

And to the geaunt alowte. 

Tho seyde Lybeaus, Mayde hende, 
Schold y wonde to wende, 

For hys dentys ille ; 
Yf god me grace sende, 
Er thys day come to ende, 

Wyth fyght y schall hym spylle. 1 260 

I have yseyn grete okes 
Falle for wyndes strokes, 

The smale han stonde stylle ; 
They y be yyng and lyte, 
To hym yyt wyll y smyte 

Do god all hys wylle. 

They ryden forth all thre 
Toward that fayre cyte, 

Me clepeth hyt Ylledore ; 
Maugeys they gonne ysS 1270 

Upon the bregge of tre, 

Bold as wylde bore. 
Hys scheld as blakke as pych, 
Lyngell armes trappur was swych, 

Thre mammettes therynne wore, 
Of gold gaylyth ygeld, 
A schafte an honde he held, 

And 00 scheld hym before. 

He cryde to hym yn despyte. 

Say, thou felaw yn whyt, i 280 

Tell me what art thou. 
Tome hom agayn all so tyt, 
For thy owene profyt, 

Yef thou lovede thy prow. 



Metrical Romances. 7 3 



Lybeaus seyde anoon ryght, 
Artour made me knyght. 

To hym i made a vow, 
That y ne schuWe never turne bak, 
Therfore, thou devell yn blak, 

Make the redy now. 1290 



Syr Lybeaus and Maugys, 
On stedes prowde of prys, 

Togedere ryde full ryght ; 
Bothe lardes and ladyes 
Leyn out yn pomet touris* 

To se that sely fyght ; 
And prayde wyth good wyll, 
Bothe lode and styll, 

Helpe Lybeaus the knyght ; 
And that fyle geaunt, 1300 

That levede yn Termagaunt,t 

That day to deye yn fyght. 



* Original reading : toun. The poet certainly intended a rhyme, if ever 90 bad. 
■{■ So, afterward, in the King of Tars ; — 

*' Of Tirmagaunt and of Mahoun^ 

" Tirmagaunt," says Dr. Percy, " is the name given in the old romances to the 
god of the Saracens : in which he is constantly linked with Mahound or Mahomet." 
(i, 76.) "This word," he adds, "is derived by the very learned editor of Junius 
from the Anglo-Saxon Tyr, very, and Mazan, mighty. As this word had so 
sublime a derivation, and was so applicable to the true god, how shall we account 
for its being so degraded ? Perhaps Tyr-mazan or Termagant had been a name 
originally given to some Saxon idol, before our ancestors were converted to 
Christianity ; or had been the peculiar attribute of one of their false deities ; and 
therefore the first christian missionaries rejected it as profane and improper to be 
implied [r. applied] to the true god. Afterwards, when the irruptions of the 
Saracens into Europe, and the Crusades into the east, had brought them acquainted 
with a new species of unbelievers, our ignorant ancestors, who thought all that 
did not receive the christian law were necessarily pagans and idolaters, supposed the 
Mahometan creed was in all respects the same with that of their pagan forefathers, 
and therefore made no scruple to give the ancient name of Termagant to the god of 
the Saracens: just in the same manner as they afterwards used the name of 
Sarazm to express any kind of pagan idolater." (77.) "I cannot," says he, 
afterward, "conclude this short memoir, without observing that the French 
romancers, who had borrowed the word Termagant from us, and applied it as we in 
their old romances, corrupted it into Tervagaunte. This may be added to the 
other proofs adduced in these volumes of the great intercourse that formerly sub- 



Ancient English 



Har scheldes brooke asonder, 
Har dentes ferd as donder, 

The peces gonne out sprynge ; 
Ech man hadde wonder 
That Lybeaus ne hadde ybe unther, 

At the ferst gynnyng. 



sisted between the old minstrels and legendary writers of both nations, and that they 
mutually borrowed each others romances" (78.) In a note, at p. 379, he, likewise 
observes that "the old French romancers, who had corrupted Termagant into 
Tervagant, couple it with the name of Mahomet as constantly as ours. As 
Termagant," he says, " is evidently of Anglo-Saxon derivation, and can only be 
explained from the elements of that language, its being corrupted by the old French 
romancers proves that they borrowed some things from ours." In another note 
([11., xxii), in order to support his hypothesis, that " The stories of king Arthur and 
his round table, of Guy and Bevis, with some others, were probably the invention of 
English minstrels," he has the following words : '* That the French romancers 
borrowed some things from the English, appears from the word Termagant, which 
they took up from our minstrels, and corrupted into Tervagaunte. . . . What is 
singular, Chaucer, who was most conversant with the French poets, adopts their 
corruption of this word. — See Tyrwhitt's Edit." 

In this pursuit the venerable prelate (though he might not be one at that time) 
has suffered himself to be misled by an ignis fatuus. All that he has said, about 
Tyr-Mazan, or Termagant being the name of a Saxon deity, remains to be proved. 
The learned editor of Junius imposed upon him : the combination Tyr Mazan, is 
not to be found even in his own Saxon dictionary, neither, according to that 
authority, is Tyr, very 3 and maza, not mazan, is mighty : and, after all, this is 
only in effect the ter-magnm of former etymologists. As little foundation is there 
for supposing that the French romancers not only borrowed the word Termagant from 
the English, but, likewise, corrupted it into Tervagaunte : which is contrary to 
every authenticated fact. The English romancers not only servilely follo'ved the 
French, but even themselves corrupted the word Tervagante, after they had got it. 
This corruption, however, must have taken p;ace before the time of Chaucer, who, 
notwithstanding what Dr. P. has, asserted, even in Mr. Tyrwhitt's edition, gives the 
English corruption, and not the French original : — 

" He sayde. Child, by Termagaunt." 
(It. Z35; and see IV., 318.) 

A much greater mistake than the present editor made, by inadvertently quoting 
his own book, by which the worthy doctor (forgetful of his own hallucinations) was 
pleased to say " all confidence [had] been destroyed." 

But, in the King of Tars, a romance, in all probability, anterior to Chaucer's time, 
as preserved in the Edinburgh MS. we find — 

"Be Mahoun and Tervagant : " 
and had we more copies of that age, we should, doubtless, recover many other 
instances of the word ; as, in fact, there may be in that identical MS. 

With respect to the etymology of the original name Tervagante (for it is 
perfectly ridiculous to seek for that of the corruption Termagant), it may, 
possibly, be referred to the two Latin words ter and vagans, i.e., the action of going 



Metrical Romances. 7 5 



Thanne drough dey swordes bothe, 

As men that weren wrothe, 13 10 

And gonne togedere dynge ; 
Lybeaus smot Maugys so, 
That hys scheld fell hym fro, 

And yn to the feld gan flynge. 



Maugys was queynte and quede. 
And smot of the stedes heed. 
That all fell out the brayne ; 



or turning thrice round, a very ancient ceremony in magical incantation. Tiius 
Medea, in Ovid's Metamorphosis (L. 7, V. 189) : — 

" Ter se convertit ,* ter sumtis jiumlne crinem 
L-roravit aquis ; ternis ululatihus ova 
Sohit." 
"She turned her thrice about, as oft she threw 
On her pale tresses the nocturnal dew. 
Then yelling thrice, &c." 
f^ago, indeed, in pure Latin, means to wander, but, in barbarous times, the classical 
sense of a word was not much regarded : of this, however, one cannot be confident. 
Tir, or Tyr, in Saxon, and the ancient Cimbric, was the name of Odin, or some 
other northern deity, and, metonymically, any great leader, prince, lord, or emperor ; 
and is occasionally applied, in composition, to God, the Creator. See Lye's 
Dictionary, and Hickes's Thesaurus. But, admitting Tervagante or Termagant to have 
some connection with the Saxon or Cimbric term, it will, by no means, prove that 
we did not obtain the word from the French, whose language, every one knows, was 
as much a dialect of the ancient Cimbric as that of the Anglo-Saxon. The word 
three had some mystic signification with the ancients : — 

" Tergeminamque Hecatetiy tria •virginis ora Diana" Vir. J^. IV. 

Termagant, therefore, has been corrupted, by the English, from Tervagani, precisely 
in the same manner as we have corrupted cormorant from corvorant, and malmsey from 
malvesie. The Italian poets have it Trivigante, Thus Ariosto : — 

" Bestemmiando Macone, e Trivigante." 
It, likewise, occurs in the Gierusakmme liberata of Tasso. They, too, doubtless, were 
indebted for it to the French. 

,*» King Herod, in the Coventry Corpus Christi play, constantly swears by 
Mahomet, but never by Termagant. So in fo. 173 1 

" Now be Mahound, my god of grace." 
One of the soldiers, who are set to watch the sepulchre, calls him "Seynt 
Mahownde." 

"Tervagant, I'un des dieux pr/tendus des Mahnne'tans," is a character in "Lejeu de S. 
Nicolas," a very ancient French mystery (see Fabliaux ou contes, II., 131) ; but no such 
personage, or even name, occurs in any English mystery or morality now extant, or 
of which we have any account ; though, from the foUowing passage, in Bale's Acts of 
English Notaries, it would seem that some such character had, in his time, been 
known to the stage : — 

" Grennyng upon her, lyke Termagaunies in a play." 



-jd Ancient English 



The stede fell doune deed, 
Lybeaus nothyng ne sede, 

Bot start hym up agayn. 1320 

An ax he hente boun. 
That heng at hys arsoun. 

And smot a strok of raayn ; 
Thorugh Maugys stedes swyre, 
And forkarf bon and lyre. 

That heed fell yn the playn. 

Afote they gonne to fyghte. 
As men that wer of myghte. 

The strokes betwene hem two 
Descry ve no man ne myghte, 1330 

For they wer unsyght, 

And eyder othres fo. 
Fram the our of pryme* 
Tyll hyt was evesong tyme 

To fyghte they wer well thro ; 
Syr Lybeaus durstede sore. 
And seyde Maugys thyn ore.t 

To drynke lette me go : 

* It was customary with the Christian kings, knights, and soldiers, to cease 
fighting at evensong or vespers, observed at six o'clock. Thus, in the ancient 
Catalan romance of Tiram lo Blanch. Barcelona, 1497, folio, it is said, " E contimiant 
tostemps la hatailla era ja quasi hora de vespres, &c. So, likewise, in the Histoire dc 
Guerin He Mmtglave, Lyons, 1585, 8vo, "fif mamt'int la guerre jusques i I'heure de 
vespres." In the old Ballad of The Hunts ofCheviat: — 

"When even-song bell was rang, the battell was nat half done j" 
and it became sinful, of course, to fight any longer. The same circumstance is thus 
noticed in the more modern ballad of Chevy-Chase : — 

" The fight did last, from break of day. 
Till setting of the sun j 
For, when they rung the evening-bell. 
The battle scarce was done." 
Dr. Percy has confounded the vesper bell with the curfew. The reason of thit 
temporary cessation of bloodshed, proceeded from respect to the Virgin Mary ; for, 
at this hour, the angelical salutation was sung j whence it was sometimes called the 
Ave Maria bell. It is still customary, upon the Spanish stage, for the actors, in the 
midst of the grossest and most indecent buft'oonery, to fall down on their knees, and 
pull out their beads, at the sound of this bell. 

t Thus, in Chaucer's Millere's Tale, V. 3714 : 

" Lemman, thy grace, and, swete bird, thyn ore." 
In the learned editor's note on this passage he explains ore to signify ^^ gmce. 



Metrical Romances. f7 

And y schall graunte the 

What bone thou byddest me, 1 340 

Swych cas yef that be tyt ; 
Greet schame hyt wold be 
For durste a knyght to sle. 

And no mare profyt. 
Maugys grauntede hys wyll. 
To drynke all hys fyll, 

Wythout any despyte ; 
As Lybeaus ley on the bank. 
And thorugh hes helm he drank, 

Maugys a-strok hym smyt. '35* 

That yn the ryuer he fell, 
Hys armes echadell. 

Was weet and evell adyght ; 
But up he start snell. 
And seyde. Be seynt Mychell, 

Now am y two so lyght. 
What wendest thou, fendes fere Y 
Uncrystenede that were 

Tyll y saw the wyth syght ; 
I schall for thys baptyse 1 360 

Ryght well quyte thy servyse, 

Thorugh grace of god almtght. 



favour, froteclim :" and cites, as 'an additional instance, in support of that explana- 
tion, the present text, " where," he says, "ttyrie ere must be understood to mean 
iviti tiy favour, as in this passage of Chaucer," 

The same phrase occurs frequently in Syr Bevys, though not precisely„at least, in 
every instance, with Mr. Tyrwhitt's signification ! — 

" She saide, Bevys, lemman, tiyn ore, 

Thou art wounded wonder lore." 
" Mercy, saide Bradmodde, tiyit ore." 
" There is no man, by goddys ore." 
" Then sayd Bevys, for Crystes ore." 

Thus, likewise, Robert of Gloucester, P. 39 :— 

" The maister fel adoun on kne, and criede mercy and ore." 

Again ! — 

" Therfore the erl of Kent he bysought mile and-o«." 

Again, in T/ie erl sf Touhui, V. 583 : — 

" Y aske mercy for goddys ore." 



7 8 Ancient English 



Thanne newe fyght they began, 
Eyther tyll other ran. 

And delede dentes strong ; 
Many a gentylman. 
And ladyes whyt as swan, 

For Lybeaus handes wrong. 
For Maugys yn the feld 
Forkarf Lybeaus scheld, 1370 

Wyth dente of armes long ; 
Thanne Lybeaus ran away, 
Ther that Maugys scheld lay, 

And up he gan hyt fonge. 

And ran agayn to hym 
Wyth strokes stout and grym, 

Togydere they gonne asayle, 
Besyde that ryver brym 
Tyll hyt darkede dym 

Betwene hem was batayle. 1380 

Lybeaus was wferrour wyght. 
And smot a strok of myght, 

Thorugh gypell, plate, and mayll ; 
Forthwyth the scholder bon 
Maugys arm fyll of anoon. 

Into the feld saunz fayle. 

The geaunt thys gan se 
Islawe that he schulde be. 

And ilaugh wyth myght and mayn. 
Lybeaus after gan fle, '39° 

Wyth Sterne strokes thre. 

And smot hys back atweyn. 
The geaunt ther beleveth 
Lybeaus smot of hys heved. 

And of the batayle was fayn. 
He wente ynto the toun 
Wyth fayr processioun. 

That folk com hym agayn. 

A lady, whyt as flowr, 

That hyghte k dame d'amore, ■ i ^00 

A feng hym fayr and well ; 



Metrical Romances. 79 



And thankede hys honour, 
That he was her socour, 

Ayens the geaunt so fell. 
To chambre sche gan hym lede, 
And dede of all hys wede, 

And clodede hym yn pell ; 
And proferede hym wyth word 
For to be her lord. 

In cyte and castell. 1410 

Lybeaus grauntede yn haste, 
And love to her he caste, 

For sche was bryght and schene ; 
Alas he ne hadde ybe chast ! 
For aftyrward at last, 

Sche dede hym greet tene. 
For twelf monthe and more 
Lybeaus dwellede thore. 

And mayde Elene ; 
That never he myghte out-breke, 1420 

For to help a wreke 

Of Synadowne the quene. 

For thys fayr lady* 
Kowthe moch of sorcery, 

More then other wycches fyfe ; 
Sche made hym melodye. 
Of all manere menstracy. 

That man myghte descryve. 
Whan he seygh her face, 
Hym thought he was 143° 

In Paradys alyve ; 
Wyth fantasme, and fayrye. 
Thus sche blerede hys yye. 

That evell mot sche thryve. 



Tyll hyt fell on a day. 
He mette Elene that may, 
Wythinne the castell tour ; 



» This lady bears a strong resemblance to the no less magical than beauteous 
fairies, the Calypso of Homer, and the Alcina of Ariosto ; both of whom deluded 
and detained Ulysses and Rogero in the manner la dame d'ammr here treats 
Lybeaus. 



So Ancitnt English 



To hym sche gan to say, 

Syr knyght, thou art fals of fay, 

Ayens the king Artour. i^^o 

For love of a woman. 
That of sorcery kan, 

Thou doost greet dyshonour ; 
The lady of Synadowne 
Longe lyght in prisoun. 

And that is greet dolour. 

Lybeaus herd her so speke, 

Hym thought hys hert wold breke, 

For sorow and for schame ; 
And at a posterne unsteke 1450 

Lybeaus gan out-breke 

Fram that gentyll dame ; 
And tok wyth hym hys stede, 
Hys scheld, and hys ryche wede, 

And ryde forth all ysame ; 
Her styward stout and sterne, 
He made hys squyere, 

Gyfflet was hys name : 

And ryde, as fast as they may, 

Forth yn her jornay, 1460 

On stedes bay and browne ; 
Upon the thyrdde thay 
They saw a cyte gay, 

Me clepeth hyt Synadowne. 
Wyth castell heygh and wyde. 
And palys prowd yn pryde, 

Werk of fayr fassoune ; 
But Lybeaus desconus 
He hadde wonder of an uus 

That he saw do yn toune. 1470 

For gore, and fen, and full wast. 
That was out ykast, 

Togydere they gaderedc y wys ; 
Lybeaus axede yn hast. 
Tell me, mayde chast. 

What amounteth thys. 



Hncient BnoUsb Metrical 
IRomances. 

SELECTED AND PUBLISHED BT 
JOSEPH RITSON, 

AND REVISED BY 

EDMUND GOLDSMID, F.R.H.S. 

Vol II. 



PART III. 



' Qua priscts memorata Catoniius atqm Cethegis 
Nunc situs informis premit ac deserta vetustas." 

i — HORATIUS. 




jg^inburab : 

i E. £sf G. GOLDSMID. 

1885. 



i 



Metrical Romances, 



They taketh all that hore, 
That er was out ybore, 

Me thyngeth they don a mys. 
Thanne seyde mayde Elene, 1480 

Syr, wythouten wene, 

I schalle the telle how yt ys. 

No knyght for nessche ne hard, 
They he schold be forfard, 

Ne geteth her non ostell. 
For love of a styward. 
Men clepeth hym syr Lambard, 

Constable of thys castell. 
Ryde to that est gate, 
And axede thyn in therate, 149° 

Bothe fayre and well ; 
And er he bete thy nede, 
Justes he wyll the bede. 

By god and seynt Mychell. 

And yf he beryth the doun, 
Hys trompys schull be boun, 

Har hemes for to blowe ; 
And thorughout Synadowne, 
Bothe maydenes, and garssoun, 

Fowyll fen schull on the throwe : 1500 

And thanne to thy lyves ende. 
In whett stede that thow wende. 

For coward werst thou knowe. 
And thus may kyng Artour 
Lese hys honour, 

Thorugh thy dede slowe. 

Than seyde Lybeaus al so tyt, 
That wer a greet dyspyt, 

For any man alyve ; 
To the Artour profyt, 1 5 10 

And make the lady quyt, 

To hym y wyll dryve. 
Syr Gyfflette, make the yare ! — 
Thyder we wyllyth fare, 

Hastely and blyve. 



Ancient English 



They ryde thy ryght gate, 
Even to the castell-yate, 
Wyth fayre schaftes fyfe. 

And at the fayr castell 

They axede her ostell, 1520 

For aunterous knyghtes ; 
The porter, fayre and well, 
Lette ham yn al so snell, 

And axede anon ryghtes : 
Ho ys yowre governowre ? 
They seyde, Kyng Artour, 

That ys man most of myghtes ; 
And welle of curtesye. 
And flowr of chyvalrye. 

To felle hys son yn fyghtes. '53° 

The porter profytable, 
To hys lord the constable 

Thus hys tale tolde. 
And wythoute fable, 
Syr, of the rownde table 

Beth come knyghtes bolde ; 
That bath armed sure. 
In rose-reed armure, 

Wyth thre lyouns of gold ; 
Lambard therof was fayn, 1 540 

And swore oth certayn. 

Wyth hem juste he wolde. 

And bad hem make yare. 
Into the feld to fare, 

Wythoute the castell gate ; 
The porter nold naght spare. 
As grehound doth the hare. 

To ham he ran full wate 
And seyde anon ryghtes. 
Ye aunterous knyghtes, jcco 

For nothyng ye ne late ; 
Loketh your scheldes be strong. 
Your schaftes good and long. 

Your saket and faunplate. 



Metrical Romances. 83 



And rydeth ynto the feld, 

My lord, wyth sper and scbeld, 

Cometh wyth yow to play. 
Lybeaus spak wordes bold. 
That ys a tale ytold. 

Well lykynge unto ray pay. 1560 

Into the felde they ryde, 
And hovede and abyde, 

As best broght to bay ; 
The lord of sente hys stede, 
Hys scheld, hys ryche wede, 

Hys atyre was stout and gay. 

Hys scheld was of gold fyn, 
The bores heddes therinne, 

As blak as brond ybrent ; 
The bordur of ermyne, '57° 

Nas non so queynte of gyn, 

From Karlell ynto Kent. 
And of the same paynture 
Was lyngell and trappure 

Iwroght well fayre and gent ; 
Hys schaft was strong wythall, 
Theron a stef coronall, 

To dely doghty dent. 

And whane that stout styward, 

That hyghte syr Lambard, 1580 

Was armede at all ryghtes, 
He rood to the feld ward, 
Lyght as a lybard, 

Ther hym abyde the knyghtes. 
He smote his schaft yn grate. 
Almost hym thought* to late, 

Whanne he seygh hem wyth syghte ; 
Lybeaus rood to hym thare, 
Wyth a schaft all square, 

As man most of myghte. 1 590 



* Original reading : Though. 



84 Ancient English 



Eyther fmot other yn the scheld, 
The peces fell ynto the feld, 

Of her schaftes schene ; 
All tho that hyt beheld, 
Ech man to other teld. 

The yonge knyghte ys kene. 
Lambard was aschamed sore, 
So nas he never yn feld before, 

To wyte and naght to wene ; 
He cryde. Do come a stranger schaft, 1600 

Yyf Artours knyght kan craft, 

Now hyt schall be sene. 

Tho he tok a schaft rounde, 
Wyth cornall scharp ygrounde. 

And ryde be ryght resoun ; 
Ayder provede yn that stounde 
To yeve other dedys wounde, 

Wyth fell herte as lyoun. 
Lambard smot Lybeaus so 
That hys scheld fell hym fro, i6io 

Into the feld adoun ; 
So harde he hym hytte, 
Unnethe that he myghte sytte 

Upryght yn hys arsoun. 

Hys schaft brak wyth gret power, 
Lybeaus hytte Lambard yn the launcer 

Of hys helm so bryght ; 
That pysane, aventayle, and gorgere, 
Fell ynto the felld fer. 

And syr Lambard upryght 1620 

Sat, and rokksde yn hys sadell, 
As chyld doth yn a kradell, 

Wythoute mannys myght ; 
Ech man tok other be the hod. 
And gonne for to herye good 

Borgays, baroun, and knyght. 



Ayen to ryde Lambard thought. 
Another helm hym was brought, 
' And a schaft unmetc : 



Metrical Romances. 85 



Whan they togydere mette, 1630 

Ayder yn other scheld hytte, 

Strokes grymly greete. 
Syr Lambardys schaft to-brast, 
And syr Lybeaus sat so faste 

In sadelys as they setten, 
That the styward, syr Lambard, 
Fell of hys stede bakward. 

So harde they two metten. 



Syr Lambard was aschamed sore, 

Than seyde Lybeaus, Wyltow more? 1640 

And he answerede. Nay ; 
Never seythe y was ybore, 
Ne sygh ycome her before 

So redy a knyght to my pay. 
A thoghth y have myn herte wythinne. 
That thou art com of Gawenys kynne, 

That ys so stout and gay ; 
Yef thou schalt for my lady fyght, 
Well come to me, syr, thou knyght, 

In love and sykyr fay. 1650 



Lybeaus answerede sykyrly, 
Feyghte y schall for a lady. 

Be heste of kyng Artour ; 
But y not wherfore ne why, 
Ne who her doth swych vylany, 

Ne what ys her dolour. 
A mayde, that ys her messengere, 
And a dwerke me brought her. 

Her to do socour ; 
The constable seyde, Well founde 1660 

Noble knyght of the table rounde, 

Iblessed be seynt Savour. 



Anon that mayde Elene 
Was fette wyth knyghtes ten, 
Before syr Lambard ; 



86 Ancient English 



Sche and the dwerk y mene 
Tolde seven dedes kene, 

That he dede dydyrward ; 
And how that syr Lybeaus 
Faught wyth fele schrewys, 1670 

And for no deth ne spared ; 
Lambard was glad and blythe. 
And thonkede fele syde, 

God and seynt Edward. 

Anon, wyth mylde chere. 
They sete to the sopere, 

Wyth moch gle and game ; 
Lambard and Lybeaus, yn fere, 
Of aventurs that ther wer, 

Talkede bothe yn same. 1680 

Than seyde Lybeaus, syr Constable, 
Tell me wythout fable. 

What ys the knyghtes name. 
That halt so yn prisoune 
The lady of Synadowne, 

That ys so gentyll a dame. 

" Nay, syr, knyght ys he non. 
Be god and be seynt Jon, 

That dorst away her lede ; 
Two clerkes beth her fon, 1690 

Well fals of flessch and bon. 

That haveth ydo thys dede. 
Hyt beth men of maystrye, 
Clerkes of nygremansye, 

Hare artes for to rede ; 
Syr Maboun hatte that other, 
And syr Irayn hys brother, 

For wham we beth yn dredc. 

Thys Yrayn and Maboun 

Have imade of our toun 1700 

A palys queynte of gynne ; 
Ther nys knyght ne baroun, 
Wyth herte harde as lyoun. 

That thorste come therinne. 



Metrical Romances. 87 



Thys* ys be nygremauncye, 
Ymaketh of fayrye. 

No man may hyt wynne ; 
Therinne ys yn prysoun, 
The lady of Synadowne, 

Ys come of knyghtes kynne. 1710 



Ofte we hereth hyr crye, 
But her to se wyth eye 

Therto have we no myghte ; 
They doth her turmentrye, 
And all vylanye. 

Be dayes and be nyght. 
Thys Maboun and Irayn 
Haveth swor deth certayn. 

To dethe they wyll her dyghte ; 
But sche graunte hym tylle 1720 

To do Mabounnys wylle. 

And yeve hem all her ryght. 



Of alle thys dukdom feyr 
That ylke ladyys eyr ; 

And come of knghtes kenne ; 
Sche ys meke and boneyre, 
Therfore we beth in despeyre, 

That sche be dyght to synne. 
Than seyde Lybeaus desconus. 
Be the grace of Jhesus, 173° 

That lady y schall wynne 
Of Maboun and Yrayn ; 
Schame i schall, certayne. 

Hem bothe wythout and wythinne. 



Tho toke they har reste. 
In lykynge as hem leste. 
In the castell that nyght ; 



* Original reading : hys. 



Ancient English 



A morow Lybeaus hym prest 
In armes that wer best 

And fressch he was to fyght; 1740 

Lambard ladde hym forth well whatc, 
And broghte hym at the castell gate. 

And fond hyt open ryght, 
No ferther ne dorste hym brynge, 
For soth'wythout lesynge, 

Erll, baroun, ne knyght. 

But turnede hom agayn, 
Save syr Gylet hys swayn 

Wolde wyth hym ryde ; 
He swor his oth serteyn, 1750 

He wold se hare brayn, 

Yf they hym wold abyde. 
To the castell he rod 
And hovede and abod. 

To Jhesu bad and tolde, 
To sende hym tydynge glad 
Of ham that longe had 

That lady yn prysoun holde. 

Syr Lybeaus knyght certeys 

Rod ynto the palys, 1760 

And at the halle alyghte ; 
Trompes, schalmuses, 
He seygh be for the hyegh deys 

Stonde yn hys syghte. 
Amydde the halle flore 
A fere stark and store 

Was lyght and brende bryght, 
Nere the dore he yede, 
And ladde yn hys stede, 

That wont was^helpe hym yn fyght. ^11^ 

Lybeauus inner gan pace, 
To se ech a place, 

The hales yn the halle. 
Of mayne mor ne laffe 
Ne sawe he body ne face 

But menstrales yclodeth yn palle. 



Metrical Romances. 89 



Wyth harp, fydele, and rote, 
Orgenes, and mery note. 

Well mery they maden alle ; 
Wyth sytole, and sawtrye, 1780 

So moch melodye 

Was never wythinne walle. 

Before ech menstrale stod 
A torche fayre and good, 

Brennynge * fayre and bryght ; 
Inner more he yode,t 
To wyte wyth egre mode 

Ho scholde wyth hym fyghte. 
He yede ynto the corneres. 
And lokede on the pylers, 179° 

That selcouth wer of syghte. 
Of jasper, and of fyn crystall, 
Swych was pylers and wall, 

No rychere be ne myghte. 

The thores wer of bras, 
The wyndowes wer of glas, 

Florysseth wyth imagerye, 
The halle ypaynted was, 
No rychere never ther nas, 

That he hadde seye wyth eye. 1800 

He sette hym an that deys, 
The menstrales wer yn pes. 

That were go good and trye. 
The torches that brende bryght 
Quenchede anon ryght, 

The menstrales wer aweye. 

Dores and wyndowes alle 
Beten yn the hallc, 

As hyt wer voys of thunder ; 
The stones of the walle 1810 

Over hym gon falle, 

That thought hym mych wonther. 



* Original reading : Bremyge. 
f Original reading : Tede. 



go A?icient English 



That deys began to schake, 
The erthe began to quake, 

As he satte hym under ; 
The rof abone unlek, 
And the faunsere ek, 

As hyt wolde asonder. 

As he sat thus dysmayde, 

And held hymself betrayde, 1820 

Stedes herde he naye. 
Thanne was he bette ypayd, 
And to hymself he sayd, 

Yet y hope to playe. 
He lokede ynto a feld, 
Ther he sawe, wyth sper and scheld, 

Come ryde knytes tweye ; 
Of purpur Inde armure 
Was lyngell and trappure, 

Wyth gold garlandys gay. 1*^30 

That on rod ynto the halle, 
And ther he gan to kalle, 

Syr knyght aunterous, 
Swych cas ther ys befalle, 
Thaugh thou be proud yn palle, 

Fyghte thou most wyth us. 
Queynte thou art of gynne, 
Yf thou that lady wynne, 

That ys so precyous. 
Tho seyde Lybeaus, anon ryght, 1840 

All fressch i am to fyght, 

Thorugh help of swete Jhesus. 

Lybeaus wyth goodwyll 
Into hys sadell gan skyll, 

And a launce yn hond he hent ; 
Quyk he rod hem tyll, 
In feld hys son to fell, 

Therto was hys talent. 
Togedere whan they mette 
Upon har scheldes they sette i8co 

Strokes of thoughty dent : 



Metrical Romances. 



Mabounys schaft to-brast, 
Tho was he sore agast, 

And held hymself yschent. 

And wyth that strok feloun 
Lybeaus bar hym adoun 

Over hys horses tayle, 
For hys hynder arsoun 
To-brak and fyll adoun 

In that feld saunz faylc. i860 

And neygh he hadde hym sclayn, 
Wyth that come ryde Yrayn 

Wyth helm, hauberke, and mayle, 
All fressch he was to fyght, 
He thought wyth mayn and myght 

Syr Lybeaus for to asayle. 

Lybeaus of hym was war, 
And sper to hym he bar, 

And lette hys brother stylle ; 
Swych dent he smot dar 1870 

That hys hauberke to-tar, 

And that lykede Yrayn ylle. 
Har launces they brak atwo, 
Swerdes they through out tho, 

Wyth herte grym and grylle. 
And gonne for to fyghte, 
Eyder prevede hys myghte 

Other for to spylle. 

As they togedere hewe 

Maboun the mare schrewe 1880 

In feld up aros ; 
He sawe and well knew 
That Yrayn smot dentys fewe, 

Therfore hym grym agros. 
To Yrayn he ran ryght, 
To helpe sle yn fyght 

Lybeaus that was of noble los ; 
But Lybeaus faught wyth hem bothe, 
Thaugh they wer never so wrothe, 

And kepte hymself yn clos. 1890 



92 Ancient English 



Whan Yrayn saw Maboun, 
He smot a strok feloun 

To syr Lybeaus wyth yre, 
Before [hys] forther arsoun 
Als sket he karf adoun 

Of Lybeaus stede swyre. 
But Lybeaus was werrour slegh, 
And smot of hys theygh, 

Fell, and bone, and lyre ; 
Tho halp hym naght hys armys 1900 

Hys chauntement, ne hys charmys, 
Adoun fell that sory syre. 

Lybeaus adoun lyght, 
Afote for to fyghte, 

Maboun and he yn fere ; 
Swych strokes they gon dyghte, 
That sparkes sprong out bryght 

From scheld andhelmes clere. 
As they togedere sette, 
Har swerdes togedere mette, 19 10 

As ye may lythe and lere ; 
Maboun, that more schrewe, 
To-karf that sworde of Lybeawe, 

A twynne quyt and skere. 

Lybeaus was sore aschamed, 
An yn hys herte agramede. 

For he hadde ylore hys sworde ; 
And hys stede was lamed, 
And he schulde be defamed. 

To Artour kyng, hys lord. 1920 

To Yrayn tho he ran, 
Hys sword he drough out than. 

Was scharp of egge, and ord ; 
To Maboun he ran ryght. 
Well faste he gan to fyght. 

Of love ther nas no word. 

But ever faught Maboun, 
As a wod lyoun, 

Lybeaus for the flo ; 



Metrical R omances . 9 3 



But Lybeaus karf adoun '93° 

Hys scheld wyth hys fachoun, 

That he tok Yrayn fro. 
Wythout more tale teld, 
The left arm wyth the scheld 

Well evene he smot of tho ; 
Tho spak Maboun hym tylle, 
Of thyne dentys ylle, 

Gentyll knyght, now ho. 

And i woU yelde me, 

In trewthe and lewtS, '94° 

At thyn owene wylle ; 
And that lady fre, 
That ys yn my poust^, 
I wyll the take tylle. 
For thorugh that swordes dent 
Myn hond y have yschent, 

That femyn wyll me spylle ; 
I femynede hem bothe, 
Sertayn wythoute nothe, 

In feld our fon to fylle. 195° 

Seyde Lybeaus, Be my thryste, 
I nell naght of thy yefte. 

All thys world to wynne ; 
But ley on strokes swyfte, 
Our on schall other lyste 

That hedde of be the skynne. 
Maboun and Lybeaus 
Paste togedere hewes, 

And stente for no synne ; 
Lybeaus was more of myght, i960 

And karf hys helm bryght, 

And hys hedde atwynne. 

Tho Maboun was ysclayn, 
He ran ther he lefte Yrayn, 

Wyth fachoun yn hys fest ; 
For to clave hys brayn, 
Therof he was certayn. 

And trewly was hys tryst. 



94 Ancient English 



And whanne he com thore, 

Away he was ybore, 1970 

Whyderward he nyste ; 
He softe hym for the nones, 
Wyde yn alle the wones, 

To fyghte more hym lyste. 

And whanne he ne fond hym noght, 
He held hymself be caught, 

And gan to syke sare, 
And seyde yn word and thought 
Thys wyll be sore abought 

That he ys thus fram me yfare. 1980 

On kne hym sette that gentyll knyght 
And prayde to Marie bryght, 

Kevere hym of hys care ; 
As he prayde thus yn halle 
Out of the ston walle 

A wyndow doun fyll thare ; 

And a greet wonder wythall 
In hys herte gan fall, 

As he sat and beheld ; 
A warm come out a pace, '99° 

Wyth a womannes face. 

Was yong and nothyng eld. 
Hyr body and hyr wyngys 
Schynede yn all thynges. 

As gold gaylyche ygyld were. 
Her tayle was myche unmete, 
Hyr pawes grymly grete, 

As ye may lythe and lere.* 

Lybeaus began to swete, 

Ther he satte yn hys sete, 2000 

Maad as he were, 
So sore hym gan agryse. 
That he ne myghte aryse, 

Thaugh hyt hadde bene all afere.f 

* This is the only stanza in which the poet has neglected the recurrent rhymes ■ 
in other respects it appears to be perfect. 
■j- Conjectural emendation : a fere. 



Metrical Romances. 95 



And er Lybeaus hyt wyste 

The warm wyth mouth hym kyste, 

All aboute hys swyre ; 
And after that kyssinge 
The warmys tayle and wynge 

Anon hyt fell fro hyre. 2010 

So fayr yn all thyng 
Woman wythout lesyng 

Ne saw he never er tho, 
But sche stod before hym naked, 
And all her body quaked, 

Therfore was Lybeaus wo. 
Sche seyde, Knyght gentyle, 
God yelde the dy whyle. 

That my son thou woldest slo ? 
Thou hast yslawe nouthe 2020 

Two clerkes kouthe. 

To deeth they wold me have ydo. 

Be est, north, and sowthe, 
Be wordes of har mouthe, 

Well many man kouth they schend ; 
Wyth hare chauntement, 
To warm me hadde they ywent. 

In wo to welde and wende. 
Tyll y hadde kyste Gaweyn, 
Eyther som other knyght sertayn, 2030 

That wer of hys kende ; 
And for thou savyst my lyf, 
Casteles ten and fyf 

I yeve the wythouten ende : 

And y to be thy wyf. 
Ay wythouten stryf, 

Yyf hyt ys Artours wylle. 
Lybeaus was glad and blythe, 
And lepte to horse swythe, 

And lefte that ladye stylle. 2040 

But ever he dradde Yrayn, 
For he was naght yslayn, 

Wyth speche he wold hym spylle 4 



96 Ancient English 



To the castell gate he rode, 
And hovede and abod, 

To Jhesu he bad wyth good wylle. 

Sende hym tydyngys glad, 
Of ham that long hadde 

That lady do vylanye ; 
Lybeaus Lambard tolde, 2050 

And othre knyghtes bolde, 

How hym there gan agye ; 
And how Maboun was yslayn, 
And wondede was Yrayn, 

Thorugh grace of seynt Marie ; 
And how that lady bryght 
To a warm was dyght, 

Thorugh kraft of chaunterye. 

And how thrugh kus of a knyght 

Woman sche was aplyght, 2060 

And a semyly creature ; 
But sche stod me before, 
Naked as sche was ybore, 

And seyde, now y am sure 
My fomen beth yslayn, 
Maboun and Yrayn, 

In pes now may we dure. 
Whan syr Lybeaus, knyght of prys, 
Hadde ytolde the styward, y wys, 

All thys aventure, 2070 

A robe of purpure bys, 
Ypelvryd wyth puryd grys, 

Anon he lette forth brynge ; 
Calles and keverchefs ryche 
He sent her pryvylyche. 

Anon wythout dwellynge ; 
And whan sche was redy dyght, 
Sche rod with mayn and myght, 

And wyth her another kyng ; 
And all the peple of the toune, 2080 

Wyth a fayr processyoun, 

Thyder they gonne thrynge. 



Metrical Romances. i)J 



Whan the lady was come to towne, 
Of gold and ryche stones a krowne, 

Upon her hedde was sette ; 
And weren glad and blythe, 
And thonkede god fele syde, 

That her bales bette. 
All the lordes of dignyte, 
Dede her omage and feawt^, 2090 

As hyt was due dette ; 
Thus Lybeaus, wys and wyght, 
Wan that ylke lady bryght, 

Out of the develes nette. 



Sev^ nyght they made sojour, 
Wyth Lambard yn the tour, 

And all the peple yn same ; 
And tho wente they wyth honour 
To the noble kyng Artour, 

Wyth moche gle and game : 2100 

And thonkede godes myghtes, 
Artour and hys knyghtes, 

That he ne hadde no schame ; 
Artour yaf her also biyve 
Lybeaus to be hys wyfe, 

That was so gentyll a dame. 



The joy of that bredale 
Nys not told yn tale, 

Ne rekened yn no gest ; 
Barons and lordynges fale 
Come to that semyly sale. 

And ladyes well honeste. 
Ther was ryche servyse. 
Of all that men kouth devyse. 

To lest and ek to mest ; 
The menstrales, yn bour and halle, 
Hadde ryche yftes wythalle, 

And they that weryn unwrest. 



98 



Jncient English Romances. 



Fourty dayes they dwellde,* 
And har feste helde, 

Wyth Artour the kyng ; 
As the Frenssch tale teld, 
Artour, wyth knyghtes held, 

At hom gan hem brynge. 
Fele yer they levede yn same, 
Wyth moche gle and game, 

Lybeaus and that swete thyng. 
Jhesu Cryst our savyour, 
And hys moder, that swete flour, 

Graunte us alle good endynge. 



2130 



* Original reading : diuelhdc. 



r 


nil 


iiiii 


^^^^^^^ 


II II 1 



THE GESTE OF KYNG HORN. 



— >$s»0=>*CO!^^-- 



This romance, the most ancient, it is believed, that exists in the 
English language (unless we except the Tristrem of Thomas 
Rymour), and of which no more than one single copy is extant, is 
preserved in a MS. of the Harleian library, in the British Museum 
number 2253, and written, apparently, in the time of King 
Edward the Second, by some French or Norman scribe, by whom 
likewise the poem itself may have been composed in the preceding 
reign. Doctor Percy, indeed, brings it down as low as King Richard 
II., which is utterly improbable ; and Warton places it in the reign of 
Edward I., which is absolutely impossible ; since, as he well knew, 
it contains an elegy upon the death of that monarch. The present 
poem, for the salvation of parchment, is written with two lines in 
one. The letters "t"and "y" (vowel) are in the Saxon form ; 
"y" is everywhere used for"th" and "z" for "y" (consonant), 
or, occasionally, "gh." The use of the "z" might have been 
retained, after the example of respectable editors ; but, with the 
Saxon characters, is sacrificed to public taste or prejudice. 

This romance is mentioned, among many others, in Chaucer's 
" Rime of sir Thopas" — 

** Men speken of romaunces of pris, 
Of Horn-child and Ypotis, 
Of Bevis and Sir Gy ;" 

as well as in an old metrical translation, in the Bodleian library, of 
Guido de Colonna, on the Trojan war, quoted by Warton," but 
not written, as he supposes, by Lydgate — 

" Many speken of men that romaunces rede, &c. 
Of Keveloke, Home, and of Wade,f 
In romances that of them be made, 



* " History of Engleish Poetry," II., n. 9. Keveloke, in the extract, should be 
Havelokc, the hero of a famous story, not entirely perished. 

+ We, unfortunately, have lost the writings, and even the history of this celc- 



Ancient English 



That gestours dos of him gestes, 
At manger^s and at great ""estes, 
Here dedis ben in remembraunce 
In many fair romaunce." 

The Story itself, if not actually printed, is suspected to have 
been well known in Scotland above two hundred years ago : as, in 
Wedderburn's Complainte, which appeared at St Andrews in 
1549, we find "the tayl quhou the kyng of Estmureland mareit 
the kingis dochtir of Vestmureland." These seem the Estnesse 
and Westncsse of the present poem, and apparently signify 
England and Ireland. No country, at the same time, in 
Britain, was ever called Eastmoreland j and from an old rhyme, 
cited by Usher (p. 303), Westmoreland received that appellation 
from a fabulous king — 

" Here the Icing Westmer 
Slow the king Rothynger," 

A "king Estmere," likewise, is the subject of one of Percy's 
ballads (I, 62), whose native country appears to be Spain. 

In a large and valuable manuscript, of the fourteenth century, in 
the library of the Faculty of Advocates, Edinburgh, numbered W. 
4. I., and being a present from the late Lord Auchinleck, is an 
excellent, but, like almost every other in the volume, imperfect 

brated personage ; except as to a very few anecdotes or allusions, which only serve to 
whet our anxiety for the rest : Chaucer, in his " Merchant's Tale," has this 
couplet — 

** And eke thise olde widewes (god it wote) 
They connen so moch craft in Wades bote." — V. 9297. 

" Upon this, ' quoth the worthy Tyrwhitt, very happily, " Speght remarks as fol- 
lows : — " Concerning Wade, and his bote called Guingelot, as also his straunge 
exploits in the same, because the matter is long and fabulous, i passe it over." — 
" Tantamne rem tarn negligenter ? Mr Specht probably did not foresee, that posterity 
would be as much obliged to him for a little of this fabulous matter concerning Wade 
and ihis bote, as for the gravest of his annotations " (IV., 284). " The story of 
Wade," he adds, "is mentioned again by our author in his Troilus, iii., 615 

" He songe, she playde, he tolde a tale of Wade." 
Sir Francis Kynaston, in his Commentary on "The loves of Troilus and Creseid," 
says that Chaucer means a ridiculous romance ; for, in his time, there was a foolish 
fabulous legend of one Wade and his boate Guingelot, wherein he did many strange 
things, and had many wonderfuU adventures." He is suspected to have been either 
a Scot or a Pict (or Pik, as Mr Pinkerton will have it), and to have been the chief 
or leader in an eruption through the Roman wall ; in which was a chasm known, in 
old time, by the name of " Wades-gapp." See Wallis's History of Northumberland, 
a., 3, n (e). 



Metrical Romances. loi 



romance, very different from the present, of " Hornchilde & 
maiden Rimnild [not Rinivel]," in stanzas beginning — 

" My leve frende dere." 

This curious fragment will be found at the end of the present 
volume.* 

An imperfect copy of the original French romance, a perform- 
ance of great merit, is preserved in the Harleian MS., No. 527. 
It is, to all appearance, as old as the twelfth century, but, unfortu- 
nately, defective both at the beginning and at the end. The 
poem is in couplets, of which every ten, twelve, or fifteen termi- 
nate in the same rhyme. 

The English romance, here given, which contains no more 
than 1546 lines, is rather an abridgement than a translation of the 
French copy, the fragment of which consists of no less than 2760. 
Most of the names, also, are entirely different ; nor can the iden- 
tity of the two poems be easily ascertained, so that it is possible 
there may have been another French romance on this subject; 
since it would be very singular to find a translator indulging him- 
self in such excessive liberties. Doctor Percy, therefore, had very 
little reason to assert that "the old metrical romance of Horn- 
child appears of genuine English growth ;" and this after the 
judicious Tyrwhitt had given his decisive opinion, "that we 
have no English romance, prior to the age of Chaucer, which 
is not a translation or imitation of some earlier French romance." 
(IV., 68). Any peculiar instances of "Anglo-Saxon language 
or idiom," which should induce him to imagine that it " can 
scarce be dated later than within a century after the Con- 
quest" (I., Ixxviii.), will be rather difficult to discover; since, 
in fact, it savours much more of the Norman idiom than the 
Saxon. 



See Appendix. 



Ancient English 



THE GESTE OF KYNG HORN. 



Alle heo ben blythe 

That to my song ylythe, 

A song ychulle ou singe 

Of Allof the gode kynge. 

Kyng he wcs by Weste,t 

The whiles hit yleste ; 

Ant Godylt his gode quene, 

Ne feyrore myghte bene ; 

Ant huere sone, hihte Horn, 

Feyrore child ne myghte be born. lo 

For reyn ne myhte by ryne, 

Ne Sonne myhte shynej 

Feyrore child then he was, 

Bryht so ever eny glas ; 

So whit so eny lylye flour, 

So rose red wes his colour. 

He wes feyr and eke bold, 

Ant of fyftene wynter old : 

Nis non his yliche 

In none kinges ryche, 20 

Tueye feren he hadde. 

That he with him ladde, 

* The title prefixed to the original manuscript, " Her bygyneth the geste of kyng 
Horn," though written in a different ink from the poem itself, is of the same age 
and character, and apparently by the same hand. It was, therefore, thought right to 
prefer it to ** Horn child," which, however, appears to have been its popular name, 
unless Chaucer actually meant another romance on the same subject, which will be 
mentioned elsewhere. 

f This country, in other places called Sudene or Suddene, appears, from the French 
MS. (in which the latter name occurs), to be Bretaine. 

\ Mr. Ellis ingeniously conjectures the meaning to be, " For rain might not 
rain upon, nor sun shine upon, fairer child than he was : " he conceives that by-ryne 
is be-rain, a prefix to verbs, which stands in lieu of many prepositions, as in be-dawbj 
to dawb all over, t^c. It might be difficult, at the same time, to find an instance of 
by ryne for berain ; so that we may conjecture the signification was intended to be 
of Horn, that, neither could rain or frost fall (see Ryne in the glossary), or sun shine 
Upon a " Feyrore child then he was." 



Metrical Romances. loi 



All richemenne sones, 

And alle suythe fcyre gomes, 

Wyth him forte pleye. 

Mest he lovede tueye, 

That on wes hoten Athulf chyld, 

And that other Fykenyld : 

Athulf wes the beste, 

And Fykenyld the werstc. 30 

Hyt was upon a someres day, 

Al so ich ou telle may, 

Allof the godc kyng 

Rode upon ys pleyyyng, 

Bi the see side, 

Ther he was woned to ryde, 

With him ne ryde bote tuo, 

Al to fewe hue wer tho. 

He fond by the strondc 

Aryved on is londe, ao 

Shipes fyftene. 

Of Sarazynes kenc. 

He askede whet hue sohten, 

Other on is lond brohten. 
A payen hit yherde, 
And sone him onsuerde, 

Thy lond-folk we wolleth slon. 

That ever Crist leveth on, 

And the we. wolleth ryht anon, 

Shalt thou never henne gon. 50 

The kyng lyghte of his stede, 

For tho he hevede nede. 

Ant his gode feren tuo, 

Mid y wis huem wes ful wo ; 

Swerde hy gonne gripe. 

And togedere smyte, 

Hy smyten under shelde. 

That hy somme yfelde. 

The kyng hade to fewe, 
Ayeyn so monie schrewe, 60 

So fele myhten ethe ' 

* In the old French fragment, already described, Aaluf is said to have been slain, 
in one place, by Romuld U malfe, in another, by Rollac, the son of Godebrand, and 



1 04 Ancient English 



Bringe thre to dethc. 
The payns come to londc, 
And nomen hit an honde, 
The folk hy gonne quelle, 
And Sarazyns to felle. 
Ther ne riiyghte libbe 
The fremede ne the sibbe 
Bote he is lawe forsoke. 
And to huere toke. 
Of alle wymmanne 
Werst was Godyld thanne, 
For Allof hy wepeth sore, 
And for Horn yet more ; 
Godild hade so muche sore. 
That habbe myhte hue na more. 
Hue wente out of halle, 
From hire maidnes alle, 
Under a roche of stone, 
There hue wonede al one ; 
Ther hue servede gode, 
Ayeyn the payenes forbode ; 
Ther hue servede Crist, 
That the payenes hit nust ; 
Ant ever hue bad for Horn child,' 
That Crist him wrthe myld. 

Horn wes in payenes hond, 
Mid is feren of the lond, 



70 



nephew of Hildebrant and Herebrant, two African Saracen*^ kings, who, afterward, 
invade Westness or Ireland. 

* Doctor Percy, in a note upon Shalcspeares tragedy of King Lear (Steevens's 
edition, P. 172), asserts "The word cA'W (however it came to have this sense) is often 
applied to knights, &c." and that "The same idiom occurs in Spenser's Faery (jueen, 
where the famous knight sir Tristram is frequently called Child Tristram." In this asser- 
tion, however he has been somewhat too hasty; Child Tristram, in Spenser, being no 
knight at the time, but only just dubbed squire by sir Calidore. His reference, also, 
to "B. V. C. ii. St. 8. 13." is inaccurate ; neither does B. vi. C. 8. st. 15. relate to 
Tristram but to Prince Arthur. Its proper signification seems to be a youth or young 
man, or, perhaps, man in general. Sir Tryamoure, in the romance under that title. 
Is repeatedly called " the chylde^' before he was made a knight. See sig. D. 4, 6. 

• By these odious ai pelladons the old English writers understood the Pagan Danes and Norwegians 
who in the ninth century, rav.aged Great Britain and Ireland in every part. Geoffrey of Mnnmomh it 
is remarlcable, called Gormund, (a wcll-itnown king of the Danes, defeated, and baptised by King 
Alfred) Icing of the Africans {B. ll, C. 8): and, in the spurious laws of Edward the Confessor it is 
asserted that King Arthur defeated the Saracens (meaning, peradvcnture, the Pagan Saxons). 



Metrical R omances . 105 



Muche wes the feyrhade 

That Jhesu Crist him made ; 90 

Payenes him wolde slo. 

And summe him wolde flo, 

Yyf Homes feyrnesse nere 

Yslawe thise children were. 

Tho spec on admyrold, 

Of wordes he wes swythe bold : 

Horn, thou art swythe kene, 

Bryht of hewe and shene. 

Thou art fayr and eke strong, 

And eke eveneliche long, 100 

Yef thou to lyve mote go, 

Ant thyne feren also, 

That y may byfalle, 

That ye shulde slen us alle ; 

Tharefore thou shalt to streme go, 

Thou ant thy feren also. 

To shipe ye shule founde. 

And sinke to the grounde. 

The see the shal adrenche, 

Ne schal hit us of thenche, no 

For yef thow were alyve. 

With suerd other with knyve. 

We shulden alle deye. 

Thy fader deth to beye. 

The children ede to the stronde, 

Wryngynde huere honde, 

Ant into shipes borde, 

At the furste worde : 

Ofte hade Horn be wo, 

Ah never wors then him wes tho. 120 

The see bygon to flowen. 
And Home faste to rowen, 
Ant that ship wel suythe drof, 
Ant Horn wes adred therof. 
Hue wenden mid y wisse. 
Of huere lyve to misse, 
Al the day and al the nyht, 
O that sprong the day-lyht, 
Flotterede Horn by the stronde, 
Er he seye eny londe. 13° 

o 



io6 Ancient English 



Feren, quoth Horn the yynge, 
Y telle ou tydynge, 
Ich here foules singe, 
And se the grases springe, 
Blythe be ye alyve, 
Ur ship is come to ryve. 
Of shipe hy gonne founde. 
And sette fot to grounde. 
By the see syde, 

Hure ship bigon to ryde. 140 

Thenne spec him child Horn, 
In Sudenne he was yborn : 
"Non ship by the flode 
Have dayes gode ; 
By the see brynke 
No water the adrynke ; 
Softe mote thou sterye 
That water the ne derye. 
Yef thou comest to Sudenne, 
Gret ham that me kenne ; * 1 ;o 

Gret wel the gode 
Quene Godild mi moder ; 
And seythene hethene kyng, 
Jhesu Cristes wytherlyng ; 
That ich, hoi and fere, 
In lond aryvede here ; 
Ant say that he shal fonde 
Then deth of myne honde." 
The ship bigon to fleoten, 
And Horn child to weopen, 1 60 

By dales and by dounes,t 
The children eoden to tounes, 

* This king i s supposed to be Mody, the Saracen, whose death he here threatens 
and whom he after ward slew. In the original his name is Romund : 
" Kuatit ilfu od Romund en Suddene la lee." F. 59. 
t Horn and his piay-fellows have arrived in this country, from Sudene, by sea. 
Westnesse and Sudenne must therefore be different countries, more especially as 
Horn sends a message bacic from the former to the latter [V. 149.) That Aylmer, 
however, the father of Rymenild, who is here king of Westnesse, is, in the French 
MS. Hunlaf, the father of Rimel (king of Sudene,) who is elsewhere said to have 
reigned in Bretaigne, where he had resided at Lions (Caer Leon ? ) a brave city. 

*' Li rois a Lions ceste dtevaillant" At V, 954, Horn says of himself 

'* Ich seche from Westnesse 
Horn knight of Estnesse" 



Metrical Romances. 107 



Metten hue Eylmer the kyng, 

Crist him yeve god tymyng, 

Kyng of Westnesse, 

Crist him myhte blesse.. 

He spec to Horn child, 

Wordes suythe myld : 

"Whenne be ye, gomen, 

That bucth her a londe yeomen ? * 170 

Alle threttene 

Of bodye suythe kene ; 

By god, that me made, 

So feyr a felanradet 

Ne seh y never stonde 

In Westnesse londe : 

Say me whet ye seche.'' 

Horn spec huere speche, 

Horn spac for huem alle, 

For so it moste byfalle, 1 80 

He wes the wyseste. 

And of wytte the beste : 

"We bueth of Sudenne, 

Ycome of gode kenne. 

Of Cristene blode, 

Of cunne swythe gode ; 

Payenes ther connen aryve. 

And Cristine brohten of lyve, 

Slowen and to-drowe, 

Cristinemen ynowe ; 190 



He is now in Ireland, whence he returns to Westnesse [K lozi) ; where Rymenild 
was {y. 960).* He calls himself, in another place, "Horn of Westnesse" [K 1215). 
There are two places in Holderness, Yorkshire, called East-ness and West-ness, at 
this day ; but ness in that county signifies merely an inlet of water, in Scotland it 
means a' nose, promontory, or headland, jutting out into the sea j as Buchan-ness, 
Fife-ness, &c. 

* A mistake it is possible, for ivlience, unless ivheme can be found elsewhere with 
the same signification. 

f Rightly felaurade. 



» The French MS makes Horn say he will go to see her in Britaine (where, it elsewhere appears 
Hunlaf her father, reigned): so that Britain seems to be the same with Westness or Suddene. 



io8 Ancient English 



So Crist me mote rede, 
Ous hy duden lede 
In to a galeye, 
With the see to pleye ; 
Day is gon and other, 
Withoute seyl and rother, 
Ure ship flet forth ylome, 
And her to londe hit ys ycome. 
Nou thou myht us slen and bynde, 
Oure honde us bihynde ; 200 

Ah yef hit is thi wille, 
Help us that we ne spylle." 
Tho spac the gode kyng, 
He nes never nythyng : 
" Sey, child, whet ys thy name, 
Shal the tide bote game ? " 
The child him onsuerde, * 
So sone he hit yherde, 
" Horn ycham yhote, 

Ycome out of this bote, 210 

From the see side ; 
Kyng, wel the bitide." 
" Horn child," quoth the kyng, 

" Wel brouk t thou thy nome yyng." 

Horn him goth so stille, 

Bi dale and bi hille, X 

Horn hath londe soune 

Thurghout uch a toune, 

" So shal thi nome sprynge. 

From kynge to kynge, zzo 

Ant thi feirnesse 

Aboute Westnesse. 

Horn, thou art so suete, 

Ne shal y the forlete." 

Hom rod Aylmer the kyng. 

And Horn with him his fundlyng. 

And alle his yfere, 

That him were so duere. 

The kyng com into halle. 

Among his knyghtes alle, 230 

* Original reading : omuerede, 

\ Original reading : bront or brrmt. The u in the MS. has everywhere the shape 
of an n. X Original reading : Bi daln and bi halles. 



Metrical Romances. 109 



Forth he clepeth Athelbrus, 

His stiward, and him seide thus, 

" Stiward tac thou here* 

My fundling for to lere 

Of thine mestere, 

Of wode and of ryvere, 

Ant toggen o the harpe,t 

With is nayles sharpe ; 

Ant tech him alle the listes 

That thou ever wystes X 240 

* Thus Robert of Brunne, in his version of Le Brut de Maistre Wace (See 
Hearne's edition of Robert of Gloucester ^ p. 622): — 
" Marian faire in chere 
He couthe of loode and ryvere^ 
In alle maner of venerie, ©"c." 
It is explained in The rime of Sire Thopas — 

** He coude hunte at the loilde dei-e. 
And ride on haukingfor the rivere.^' 
See, likewise. The Squyr of loiv degree, V. 774; and The Frankldrii tak, V. 1752. 

-j- This is an ordinary accomplishment of the heroes of romance. In the original 
fragment, at the table of King Gudred, his daughter Lenbure, her two brothers, and 
Horn, pass the harp to each other ; the latter particularly distinguishes himself : — 
" Lors print la harpe a sei si commence a temprer 
Deu ki dune lesgardaft, cum il la sot manier ! 
Cum ses cordes tuchot, cum les feseit trembler, 
A quantes faire les chanz a kuantes organer, 
Del armonie del ciel lie pureit remembrer 
Sur tuz ceus ke i sunt fait cist a merveiller, 
Kuant celes notes ot fait prent sen amunter, 
E par tut autre tuns fait les cordes soner : 
Mut sesmerveillent tuit quil la sot ci manier, 
E quant il ot ci fait comen^a a noter 
Z,e lay dunt orains dis * de Batolfhaut e cler 
Si cum sunt cil Bretun de tel fait custumer." 
Sir Tristram, in his youth, was sent into France for his education, and there 
" learned to be an harper, passing all other, that there was none such called in no 
countrey." Mort d' Arthur, P. i, C. 3. See also C. 59, and more instances in the 
Roman de Tristan, Rouen, 1489. In Mr. Douce's MS. he says to Ysolt — 
" Od ma harpe me delitois, 
Je noi confort ki tant amoie, 
Ben tost en oist parler, 
Ke mult savoie ben harper. 



Bons lais de. harpe vus apris, 
Lais Bretuns de nostre pais." 
J Original reading : ivystest. 



' Batolflc fe Hunlaf rci de noblet^, 
Ki en Bretagne maint, ke cest sun herit^, 
Le fist de sa sorur Rimel od la grant beutc, " &c. 



1 1 o Ancient English 



Byfore me to kerven, 

And of my coupe to serven ; 

Ant his feren devyse 

With ous other servise. 

Horn child thou understond, 

Tech him of harpe and of song." 

Athelbrus gon leren 
Horn, and hyse feren, 
Horn mid herte lahte 

Al that mon him tahte. 250 

Withinne court and withoute, 
And over al aboute, 
Lovede men Horn child, 
And most him lovede Rymenyld, 
The kinges oune dohter. 
For he wes in hire thote. 
Hue lovede him in hire mod. 
For he wes feir and eke god. 
And thah hue ne dorste at bord 
Mid him speke ner a word, 260 

Ne in the halle, 
Among the knyhtes alle, 
Hyre sorewe ant hire pyne 
Nolde never fyne, 
Bi daye ne by nyhte 
For hue speke ne myhte 
With Horn that wes so feir and fre ; 
Tho hue ne myhte with him be. 
In herte hue hade care and wo. 
And ther hue bithohte hire tho, 270 

Hue sende hyre sonde 
Athelbrus to honde. 
That he come hire to. 
And also shulde Horn do, 
In to hire boure. 
For hue bigon to loure : 
And the sonde sayde 
That seek wes the mayde. 
And bed him come suythe. 
For hue nis nout blythe. z8o 

The stiward wes in huerte wo. 
For he nuste whet he shulde do. 



Metrical Romances, i \ i 



What Rymenild bysohte 

Gret wonder him thohte, 

Aboute Horn the yinge 

To boure fortS bringe ; 

He thohte on is mode 

Hit nes for none gode. 

He tok with him an other, 

Athulf Homes brother : 290 

" Athulf," quoth he, "ryht anon. 

Thou shalt with me to boure gon. 

To speke with Rymenild stille, 

To wyte hyre wille ; 

Thou art Homes yliche. 

Thou shalt hire bysuyke : 

Sore me adrede, 

That hue wole Horn mysrede." 

Athelbrus and Athulf bo 

To hire boure beth ygo, 300 

Upon Athulf childe 

Rymenild con waxe wilde ; 

Hue wende Horn it were 

That hue hade there. 

Hue seten adoun stille. 

And seyden hure wille, 

In hire armes tueye 

Athulf he con leye. 

" Horn," quoth heo, " wel longe 

Y have loved the stronge ; 310 

Thou shalt thy treuthe plyhte 

In myn hond with rythe 

Me to spouse welde. 

And ich the loverd to helde. 

So stille so hit were 

Athulf seyde in hire eere 

" Ne tel thou no more speche. 

May y the byseche, 

Thi tale gyn thou lynne, 

For Horn nis nout her-ynne ; 320 

Ne be we nout yliche. 

For Horn is fayr and ryche, 

Fayrore by one ribbe 

Then ani men that libbe ; 



1 1 2 Ancient English 



Thah Horn were under molde 
And other elle wher he sholde 
Hennes a thousent milen, 
Y nulle him bigilen." 

Rymenild hire bywente. 
Ant Athelbrus thus heo shente.* 330 

"Athelbrus, thou foule thef, 
Ne worthest thou me' never lef, 
Went out of my boure, 
Shame the mote by shoure. 
Ant evel hap to undersonge, 
And evele rode on to honge, 
Ne speke y nout with Home, 
Nis he nout sa unorne." 

Tho Athelbrust astounde, 
Fel aknen to grounde : 340 

" Ha, leuedy, myn owe, 
Me lythe a lutel throwe. 
Ant list werefore ych wonde 
To bringen Horn to honde ; 
For Horn is fayr and riche, 
Nis non his ylyche ; 
Aylmer, the gode kyng. 
Dude him me in lokyng ; 
Yif Horn the were aboute. 

Sore ich myhte doute 350 

With him thou woldest pleye, 
Bituene ou-selven tueye, 
Then shulde, with outen othe, 
The kyng us make wrothe. 
Ah, foryef me thi teone, 
My leuedy, ant my quene, 
Horn y shal the fecche. 
Wham so hit yrecche." 
Rymenild yef heo couthe 

Con lythe with hyre mouthe, 360 

Heo loh and made hire blythe. 
For wel wes hire olyve. 
" Go thou," quoth heo, " sone, 
And send him after none. 



* Original reading, ihendc. 







Hnctent Englteb Metrical 
IRomancea* 

SELECTED AND PUBLISHED BT 

JOSEPH RITSON, 

AND REVISED BY 

EDMUND GOLDSMID, F.R.H.S. 
Vol II. 



PART IV. 



' j3«<* priscis mtPKrata CatomBus atque Cetiegis 
Nunc sittts infitmis fretait ac deserta vetustas." 

— HORATIUS. 




E. & G. GOLDSMID. 

1885. 



mi 









p 



61% 



Metrical Romances. 



A skuyeres wyse. 

When the king aryse, 

He shal myd me bileve, 

That hit be ner eve, 

Have ich of him mi wille, 

Ne recchi whet men telle. 370 

Athelbrus goth with alle, 
Horn he fond in halle, 
Bifore the kyng o benche, 
Wyn forte shenche. 
Horn, quoth he, thou hende. 
To boure gyn thou wende. 
To speke with Rymeriild the yynge, 
Dohter oure kynge, 
Words suythe bolde. 

Thin herte gyn thou holde ; 380 

Horn, be thou me trewe, 
Shal the nout arewe. 
He eode forth to-ryhte. 
To Rymenild the bryhte, 
A kne wes he him sette. 
And suetliche hire grette. 
Of ys fayre syhte 
Al that boure gan lyhte. 
He spac faire is speche, 

Ne durth non him teche : 390 

"Wei thou sitte and sothta, 
Rymenild kinges dohter, 
Ant thy maydnes here. 
That sitteth thyne yfere ; 
Kynges stiward oure 
Sende me to boure, 
Forte yhere, leuedy myn, 
Whet be wille thyn." 
Rymenild up gon stonde, 

And tok him by the honde, 400 

Heo made feyre chere. 
And tok him bi the suere ; 
Ofte heo him custe. 
So wel hyre luste : 
Welcome, Horn, thus sayde 
Rymenild that mayde. 



Ancient English 



An even and a morewe 
For the ich habbe sorewe, 
That y have no reste, 

No slepe me ne lyste ; 410 

Horn, thou shalt wel swythe 
Mi longe serewe lythe, 
Thou shalt, wythoute strive, 
Habbe me to vsryve ; 
Horn, have of me reuthe, 
And plyht me thi treuthe. 
Horn tho him bythohte, 
Whet he speken ohte : 
Crist, quoth Horn, the wisse. 
And yeve the hevene blisse, 420 

Of thine hosebonde. 
Who he be a londe, 
Ich am ybore thral. 
Thy fader fundlyng withal. 
Of kunde me ne selde. 
The to spouse welde, 
Hit nere no fair wfeddyng 
Bituene a thral and the kyng. 
Tho gon Rymenild mislyken. 
And sore bigon to syken, 430 

Armes bigon unbowe. 
And doun heo fel yswowe. 
Horn hire up hente. 
And in is armes trente. 
He gon hire to cusse. 
And feyre forte wisse. 
Rymenild, quoth he, duere, 
Help me that ych were, 
Ydobbed to be knyhte, 

Suete, bi al thi myhte, 440 

To mi louerd the kyng. 
That he me yeve dobbyng ; 
Thenne is my thralhede 
Al wend into knyhthede, 
Y shal waxe more. 
And do Rymenild thi lore. 
Tho Rymenild the yynge 
Aros of hire swowenynge : 



Metrical Romances. 115 



" Nou, Horn, to sothe 

Yleve the by thyn othe, 45° 

Thou shalt be maked knyht, 

Er then this fourteniht ; 

Ber thou her thes coppe, 

And thes ringes ther uppe, 

To Athelbrus the styward, 

And say him, he holde foreward ; 

Sey, ich him biseche. 

With loveliche speche. 

That he for the falle 

To the kynges fet in halle, 460 

That he with is worde 

The knyhty with sworde, 

With selver and with golde, 

Hit worth him wel yyolde. 

Nou Crist him lene spede 

Thin erndyng do bede." 

Horn tok is leVe, 
For hit was neh eve, 
Athelbrus he sohte. 

And tok him that he brohte, 470 

Ant tolde him thare, 
Hou he hede yfare ; 
He seide him is nede. 
And him bihet is mede. 
Athelbrus, so blythe, 
Eode into halle swythe, 
And seide, Kyng, now leste 
O tale mid the beste. 
Thou shalt bere coroune 

To marewe in this toune, 480 

To marewe is thi feste, 
The bihoveth geste, 
Ich the rede mid al my myht. 
That thou make Horn knyht. 
Thin armes do him welde, 
God knyht he shal the yelde. 
The kyng seide wel sone. 
Hit is wel to done ; 
Horn me wel quemeth, 
Knyht him wel bysemeth ; 490 



1 1 6 Ancient English 



He shal have mi dobbyng, 

And be myn other derlyng, 

And his feren tuelve 

He shal dobbe himselve ; 

Alle y shal hem knyhte, 

Byfore me to fyhte. 

Al that the lyhte day sprong 

Aylmere thohte long ; 

The day bigon to sprynge, 

Horn com byfore the kynge, 500 

With his tuelf fere, 

Alle ther ywere, 

Horn knyht made he, 

With ful gret solempnit^, 

Sette him on a stede. 

Red so any glede, 

■Smot him a lute wiht. 

And bed him buen a god knyht. 

Athulf vel a kne ther. 

And thonkede kyng Aylmer : 5 10 

•" Nou is knyht sire Horn, 

That in Sudenne wes yborn. 

Lord he is of londe. 

And of us that by him stonde, 

Thin armes he hayeth, and thy sheld, 

Fort^ fyhte in the feld. 

Let him us alle knyhte. 

So hit is his ryhte." 

Aylmer seide, Ful y wis, 
Nou do that thi wille ys. 520 

Horn adoun con lyhte, 
And made hem alle to knyhte. 
For muchel wes the geste. 
And more wes the feste. 
That Rymenild nes nout there 
Hire thohte sevd yere ; 
Efter Horn hue sende, 
Horn into boure wende. 
He nolde gon is one, 
Athulf wes hys ymone. ,. -g 

Rymenild welcometh sire Horn, 
And Athulf knyht him biforn ; 



Metrical Romances. 



" Knyht, nou is tym^ 

For to sitte by me, 

Do nou that we spake, 

To thi wyf thou me take ; 

Nou thou hast wille thyne. 

Unbynd me of this pyne." 

" Rymenild, nou be stille, 

I chulle don al thy wille. 540 

Ah, her hit so bitide 

Mid spere ichulle ryde, 

Ant my knyhthod prove, 

Er then ich the wowe. 

We bueth nou knyhtes yonge, 

AUe to day yspronge. 

Ant of the mestere 

Hit is the manere 

With sum other knyhte 

For his lemman to fythte, 550 

Er ne he eny wyf take. 

Other wyth wymmon forewart make. 

To-day, so Crist me blesse, 

Y shal do pruesse. 

For thi love mid shelde 

Amiddewart the felde, 

Yef ich come to lyve, 

Ychul the take to wyve." 

" Knyht, y may yleve the, 

Why ant thou trewe be ; 560 

Have her this gold ring. 

Hit is ful god to thi dobbyng, 

Ygraved is on the rynge 

Rymenild thy luef the yynge ; 

Nis non betere under sonne, 

That eny mon of conne ; 

For mi love thou hit were. 

And on thy fynger thou hit here ; 

The ston haveth suche grace 

Ne shalt thou in none place 570 

Deth underfonge, 

Ne buen yslaye with wronge, 

Yef thou lokest theran. 

And thenchest o thi lemman : 



Ancient English 



590 



Ant sire Athulf, thi brother, 

He shal han en other. 

Horn, Crist y the byteche, 

Myd mourninde speche, 

Crist the yeve god endyng, 

And found ayeyn the brynge." 5 80 

The knyht hire gan to cusse,* 

And Rymenild him to blesse. 

Leve at hire he nom, 

And in to halle he com ; 

Knyhtes eode to table. 

And Horn eode to stable ; 

Ther he tok his gode fole, 

Blac so ever eny cole. 

With armes he him fredde, 

Ant is fole he fedde ; 

The fole bigon to springe. 

And Horn murie to synge. 

Horn rod one whyle 

Wei more then a myle. 

He seh a shyp at grounde. 

With hethene hounde. 

He askede wet hue hadden, 

Other to londe ladden. 

An hound him gan biholde, 

And spek wordes bolde : 600 

" This land we wolleth wynne, 

And sle that ther bueth inne." 

Horn gan is swerd gripe. 

Ant on is arm hit wype. 

The Sarazyn he hitte so 

That is hed fel to ys to. 

Tho gonne the houndes gone 

Ayeynes Horn ys one ; 

He lokede on is rynge, 

Ant thohte o Rymenyld the yynge ; 610 

He sloh ther of the beste. 

An houndred at the leste. 



• In the original, Rimel gives him a kiss along with the ring, saying- 
" Cest anel- prendre*, od trestut cest baiser," 



Metrical Romances. 1 1 9 



Ne mihte no mon telle 
Alia that he gon quelle ; 
Of that ther were oryve 
He lafte lut olyve. 

Horn tok the maister heved 
That he him hade byreved, 
And sette on is suerde, 

Aboven othen orde. 620 

He ferde hom to halle, 
Among the knyhtes alle. 
Kyng, quoth he, wel thou sitte, 
And thine knyhtes mitte, 
To-day ich rod o my pleyying, 
After my dobbyng, 

Y fond a ship rowen, 
In the sound byflowen, 
Mid unlondisshe menne. 

Of Sarazynes kenne, 630 

To dethe forte pyne. 
The and alle thyne ; 
Hy gonne me asayly, 
Swerd me nolde fayly, 

Y smot hem alle to grounde, 
In a lute! stounde ; 

The heved ich the brynge 

Of the maister kynge : 

Nou have ich the yolde 

That thou me knyhten wolde.* 640 

The day bigon to springe, 
The kyng rod on hontynge. 
To the wode wyde. 
Ant Fykenyld bi is syde,t 
That fals wes ant untrewe. 
Whose him vyel yknewe. 
Horn ne thohte nout him on, 
Ant to boure w^es ygon. 
He fond Rymenild sittynde, 
And wel sore wepynde, 650 



* Original reading : woldest. 

t This Fykenild, in the original poem, is named Wikele. Being refused a horse 
by Horn, he betrays his love to the king, as in V. 690, &c. 



120 Ancient English 



So whyt so the sonne, 

Mid terres al byronne. 

Horn seide, Luef, thyn ore, 

Why wepest thou so sore ? 

Hue seide, Ich nout ne wepe, 

Ah y shal er y slepe 

Me thohte o my metyng 

That ich rod o fysshyng, 

To see my net ycaste, 

Ant wel fer hit laste, 660 

A gret fyssh at the ferste 

My net made berste. 

That fyssh me so bycahte 

That y nout ne lahte, 

Y wene y shal forleose 

The fyssh that y wolde cheose. 

Crist and seint Stevene, 

Quoth Horn, areche thy swevene. 

No shal y the byswyke, 

Ne do that the mislyke ; 670 

Ich take the myn owe. 

To holde and eke to knowe, 

For everuch other wyhte 

Therto my trouthe y plyhte. 

Wel muche was the reuthe 

That wes at thiike treuthe. 

Rymenild wep wel ylle. 

Ant Horn let terres stille : 

Lemmon, quoth he, dere. 

Thou shalt more yhere, 680 

Thy sweven shal wende, 

Summon us wole shende. 

That fyssh that brae thy net, 

Y wys it is sumwet, 
That wol us do sum teone, 

Y wys hit worth ysene. 
Aylmer rod by stoure, 

Ant Horn wes yne boure, 

Fykenyld hade envye. 

And seyde theose folye : 690 

" Aylmer, ich the werne, 

Horn the wole forberne ; 



Metrical Romances. 1 2 1 



Ich herde wher he seyde, 

Ant his suerd he leyde, 

To brynge the of lyve, 

And take Rymenyld to wyve ; 

He lyht nou in boure, 

Under covertoure, 

By Rymenyld thy dohter, 

And so he doth wel ofte ; 700 

Do him out of londe, 

Er he do more shonde." 

Aylmer* gan horn turne, 
Wel mody, and wel sturnc, 
He fond Horn under arme, 
In Rymenyldcs barme. 
Go out, quoth Aylmer the kyng, 
Horn, thou foule fundlyng. 
Forth out of boures flore, 

For Rymenild, thin hore ; 710 

Wend out of londe sone, 
Her nast thou nout to done. 
Wel sone bote thou flette, 
Myd suert y shal the sette. 
Horn eode to stable, 
Wel modi for that fable. 
He sette sadel on stede. 
With armes he gon him shrede. 
His brunie he con lace. 

So he shulde into place, 720 

His suerd he gon fonge, 
Ne stod he nout to longe. 
To is suerd he gon teon, 
Ne durste non wel him seon. 
He seide, Lemmon derlyng, 
Nou thou havest thy swevenyng, 
The fyssh that thyn net rende 
From the me he sende ; 
The kyng with me gynneth strive, 
Awey he wole me dryve, 730 

Tharefore have nou godneday, 
Nou y mot founde and fare away 

* King Hunlaf (the Aylmer of the present poem) and Horn have a much larger 
dialogue in the French original. 



Ancient English 



Into uncouthe londe, 

Wei more forte fonde, 

Y shal wonie there 

Fulle seve yere, 

At the seve yeres ende 

Yyf y ne come ne sende, 

Tac thou hosebonde, 

For me that thou ne wonde ; 740 

In armes thou me fonge, 

And cus me swythe longe. 

Hy custen hem astounde. 

And Rymenild fel to grounde. 

Horn toe his leve, 
He myhte nout byleve, 
He tok Athulf * is fere 
About the swere, 
And seide, Knyht, so trewe, 

Kep wel my love newe, 75° 

Thou never ne forsoke 
Rymenild to kepe ant loke. 
His stede he bigan stryde. 
Ant forth he con hym ryde. 
Athulf wep with eyyen, 
Ant alle that hit yseyyen. 
Horn forth him ferde, 
A god ship he him herde. 

That him shulde passe 

Out of Westnesse. 760 

The wynd bigon to stonde. 
Ant drot hem up o londe,t 

To lond that hy fletten, 

Fot out of ship by setten. 

He fond by the wreye 

Kynges sones tueye ; 

That on wes hoten Athyld, 

Ant that other Beryld ■,% 

* Athulf is never once mentioned in the French. 

-|- The country, in which he now lands, is in the original fragment called Westir, 
which is there explained to mean Ireland. 

" Ki ore Hirland lors Westir fu apelee." 

J In the French fragment the names of the two sons of King Guddred of Westir, 
who meet Horn, on his arrival in that kingdom, are Gofer and Egfer, The latter's 



Metrical Romances. 123 



Beryld hym con preye, 

That he shulde seye, 770 

What he wolde there, 

And what ys nome were. 

Godmod, he seith, ich hote, 

Yeomen out of this bote, 

Wei fer from by Weste, 

To seche myne beste. 

Beryld con ner him ryde. 

Ant toe him bi the bride : * 

"Wei be thou knyht yfounde, 

With me thou lef a stounde, 780 

Also ich mote sterve 

The kyng thou shalt serve ; 

Ne seh y never alyve, 

So feir knyht her aryve." 

Godmod he ladde to halle, t 

Ant he adoun gan falle, 

Ant sette him a knelyng, 

Ant grette thene gode kyng. 

Tho said Beryld, wel sone, 

Kyng with him thou ast done, 790 

Thi lond tac him to werie, 

Ne shal the no man derye, 

For he is the feyreste man. 

That ever in this londe cam. 



question is nearly the same with that in the present poem. Part of his reply is as 
follows : — 

" De Sutdene sui nez, si ma geste ne ment 

>iz sui dun vavasur dun povere tenement. 

* * « * 

*' Ne me deura nul blasmer per le mien escient, 

Gudmod sui apele en mun baptisement : 

Or vus ai tut rendu vostre demandement." 

It would seem, from the first of these lines, that there had been a still more ancient 
romance on this subject, to which Horn is thus awkwardly made to refer. It seems 
alluded to in two other passages : 

"Joe sui veraiement Horn, dunt parolent la gent." 

" E Horn si a torne cum dit le parchemin." 
* Bride, French for bridle. 

t The parallel passage of the old fragment is in fo. 63, b. and begins — 
"Kuant li reis Guddreid vit ses fiz ke sunt entrez." 



124 Ancient English 



Tho seide the kyng wel dere, 

Welcome be thou here ; 

Go, Beryld, wel swythe. 

And make hym wel blythe, 

Ant when thou farest to wowen, 

Tac him thine gloven, 800 

Ther thou hast munt to wyve, 

Awey he shal the dryve ; 

For Godmodes feyrhede 

Shalt thou newer spede.* 

Hit wes at Cristesmasse, 
Nouther more ne lasse, 
The kyng made feste 
Of his knyhtes beste, 
There come in at none 

A geaunt suythe sone,t '^•° 

Yarmed of paynyme, 
Ant seide thise ryme : 
Site kyng bi kynge, 
Ant herkne my tidyngc : 
Her bueth paynes aryve, 
Wel more then fyve. 
Her beth upon hondc, 
Kyng, in thine londe, 
On therof wol fyhte 

To-yeynes thre knyhtes, 8zo 

Yef ure thre sleh cure on, 
We shulen of ure londe gon ; 

* These lines answer to the following of the original — 

*' Je vus alez donneer kot vus nel amenez, 
Kas il est de beute is si elluminez, 
Ke vus la ou il est petit serre preisez, 
Ki tuz homes einz oes de beute pussez.'' — Fo. 63, b. 

■j" This giant is not so called in the French ; where he is named Rollac. He was 
the son of Godebrand, and the nephew of Hildebrant and Herebrant, two African, 
or Saracen, tyrants, who now arrive in Westir, and had slain Aaluf the father of 
Horn.* Th^ send him to the court to demand tribute, but Horn fights with, and 
kills him, and cuts ofF hia head. The battle is described at some length. The two 
princes are slain by Hildebrant ; but their death is revenged by Horn. In a former 
part, mention is made of a similar visit to King Hunlaf by a giant named Marmorin 
Fo. 59. 

* U is, however, said afterward, to Horn, by Gudred— 

" Si vus venez bien de Romuld le malfc, 
Ki vostrc perc Aaluf ocift par grant pecchc." 



Metrical Romances. 1 2 5 



Yef ure on sleh oure thre, 
Al this lond shal ure be : 
To-morewe shal be the fyhtyngc 
At the sone upspringe. 

Tho seyde the kyng Thurston, 
Godmod shal be that on, 
Beryld shal be that other, 

The thridde Athyld is brother ; 830 

For hue bueth strongeste. 
Ant in armes the beste. 
Ah wat shal us to rede ! 
Y wene we bueth dede. 
Godmod set at borde. 
Ant seide theose wordes : 
Sire kyng, nis no ryhte 
On with thre fyhte, 
Ayeynes one hounde 

Thre Cristene to founde ; 840 

Ah kyng, y shal alone, 
Wythoute more ymone, 
With my suerd ful ethe, 
Bringen hem alle to dethc. 
The kyng aros amorewe. 
He hade much sorewe ; 
Godmod ros of bedde. 
With armes he him shredde ; 
His brunye he on caste. 

And knutte hit wel faste ; 850 

Ant com him to the kynge, 
At his uprysynge. 
Kyng, quoth he, com to felde, 
Me forte byhelde, 
Hou we shule flyten, 
Ant togedere sraiten. 

Riht at prime tide, 
Hy gonnen out to ryde, 
Hy founden in a grene, 

A geaunt swythe kene, 860 

His feren him biside, 
That day forto abyde. 
Godmod hem gon asaylen. 



1 26 Ancient English 



Nolde he nout saylen, 

He yef duntes ynowe, 

The payen fel yswowe ; 

Ys feren gonnen hem withdrawe, 

For huere maister wes neh slawe. 

He seide, Knyht, thou reste, 

A whyle yef thou the leste, 870 

Y ne hevede of monnes hond 
So harde duntes in non londe, 
Bote of the kyng Murry, 
That wes swithe sturdy, 

He wes of Homes kenne, 

Y sloh him in Sudenne. 
Godmod him gon agryse. 
Ant his blod aryse, 
Byforen hym he seh stonde 

That drof him out of londe, 880 

Ant fader his aquelde. 

He smot him under shelde, 

He lokede on is rynge 

Ant thohte o Rymenild the yynge ; 

Mid god suerd at the furste, 

He smot him thourh the huerte. 

The payns bigonne to fleon, 

Ant to huere shype teon, 

To ship hue wolden erne, 

Godmod hem gon werne. 890 

The kynges sones tweyne 

The paiens slowe beyne. 

Tho wes Godmod swythe wo, 

Ant the payens he smot so, 

That, in a lutel stounde. 

The paiens hy felle to grounde. 

Godmod ant is men 

Slowe the payenes everuchen. 

His fader deth and ys lond 

Awrek Godmod with his hond. 000 

The kyng, with reuthfel chere, 

Lette leggen is sones on bere. 

Ant bringen horn to halle, 

Muche sorewe hue maden alle : 



Metrical Romances. 127 

In a chirche of lym and ston 

Me buriede hem with ryche won." 

The kyng lette forth calle 
Hise knyhtes alle, 
And seide, Godmod, yef thou nere 
Alle ded we were, 910 

Thou art bothe god and feyr, 
Her y make the myn heyr, 
For my sones bueth yslawe, 
Ant ybroht of lyf dawe ; 
Dohter ich habbe one,t 
Nys non so feyr of blod ant bone, 
Ermenild that feyre may, 
Bryht so eny someres day, 
Hire wolle ich yeve the. 

Ant her kyng shalt thou be. 920 

He seyde, More ichul the serve, 
Kyng, er then thou sterve ; 
When y thy dohter yerne, 
Heo ne shal me nothyng werne. 

Godmod wonede there 
Fulle six yere. 
Ant the sevethe yer bygon, 
To Rymynyld sonde ne sende he non. 

* Mr. Ellis, in his criticism on Robert of Gloucester, says **The oddest peculiarity 
in his style is the strange use of the word me, which," he adds, " we have seen once used 
by Layamon, but which here occurs as a mere expletive in every page."* In fact, 
however, the use of this word is, by no means, a peculiarity in the honest monk, 
since it occurs in Layamon, in the present poem, and would be found, no doubt, in 
other productions of that age if we had them to consult : neither is it ever once an 
expletive ; and that this ingenious but rapid writer, did not perfectly understand his 
own objection is evident from his having quoted a single passage in which it is neither 
odd nor [peculiar, nor strange, nor expletive, but is merely a vulgar substitution of 
the accusative me, instead of the nominative I ; a vulgar corruption common enough 
at this day. Me, in fact, as most frequently and certainly used by Robert of Glouces- 
ter, as well as by Layamon, and in the above text, means nothing more nor less than 
men, as could be proved from a hundred citations ; but will be sufficiently so from 
Hearne's glossary : — *' Me, metij me, i, to me, my; me clupeth, men call ; me bere, 
men carried ^ me nom, men took ; me not, men know not ,- me seith, men say," 

f Gudred's daughter, in the original, is named Lenburc, whom he there offers a 
wife to Horn, who politely declines the gift, as being engaged to one of his own con- 
dition, the daughter of a vavasour in Britain ; a refusal which the king deems 
proper to a madman. 

* Specimens, I, 104. 



128 Ancient English 



Rymenild wes in Westnesse, 

With muchel sorewenesse, 930 

A kyng ther wes aryve, 

Ant wolde hyre han to wyve, 

At one were the kynges 

Of that weddynge, 

The dayes were so sherte, 

Ant Rymenild ne derste 

Latten on none wyse ; 

A wryt hue dude devyse, 

Athulf hit dude wryte, 

That Home ne lovede nout lyte. 9+0 

Hue sende hire sonde 

Into everuche londe, 

To sechen Horn knyhte, 

Wher so er* me myhte. 

Horn thereof nout herde, 

Til o day that he ferde 

To wode forte shete, 

A page he gan mete,t 

Horn seide, Leve fere, 

Whet dest thou nou here ? 950 

" Sire, in lutel spelle, 

Y maye the sone telle ; 

Ich seche, from Westnesse, 

Horn knyht of Estnesse, 

For Rymenild, that feyre may, 

Soreweth for him nyht and day ; 

A kyng hire shal wedde, 

A Sonneday to bedde ;■ 

Kyng Mody of Reynis, 

That is Homes enimis. 960 

Ich habbe walked wyde. 

By the see side, 

Ne mihte ich him never cleche, 

With nones kunnes speche ; 

* Original reading : Whao er. 

\ Instead of a page, we have, in the French fragment, a palmer or pilgrim {un 
palmer pelerin\ in fact, the son of Herlant, his foster-father, and his name turns out 
to be Jocerant. He gives him an account of the treachery of Wikele, and the 
intended marriage of Rimel, the daughter of Hunlaf, to the kingof Fenoie or Fenice, 
afterward named Modun. 



129 



970 



--™.- , ' 980 

The him con ded thhrowe 

Under hire chambre wowe. * 

Rymenild lokede wide, 

By the see syde, 

Yef heo seye Horn come. 

Other tidynge of eny gome ; 

Tho fond hue hire sonde 

Adronque by the stronde. 

That shulde Horn brynge, 

Hire hondes gon hue wrynge. 990 

Horn com to Thurston the kynge,t 
Ant told him thes tidynge ; 
Ant tho he was biknowe. 
That Rymenild wes ys owe ; 
Ant of his gode kenne. 
The kyng of Sudenne : 
Ant hou he sloh afelde 
Him that is fader aquelde ; 
Ant seide, Kyng, so wyse, 

Yeld me my service, 1000 

Rymenild help me to wynne, 
Swythe that thou ne blynne, 

* Conjectural emendation : windowe. 

■J- This interview takes place in the Frencli fragment ; wliich gives tlie king's 
speech, and the suppliant's harangue, at great length. His name is, there, not 
Thurston, but Gudred or Guddrec. 

R 



1 2 8 Ancient English 



Rymenild wes in Westnesse, 

With muchel sorewenesse, 930 

A kyng ther wes aryve, 

Ant wolde hyre han to wyve, 

At one were the kynges 

Of that weddynge, 

The dayes were so sherte, 

Ant Rymenild ne derste 

Latten on none wyse ; 

A wryt hue dude devyse, 

Athulf hit dude wryte, 

That Home ne lovede nout lyte. 940 

Hue sende hire sonde 

Into everuche londe. 

To sechen Horn knyhte, 

Wher so er* me myhte. 

Horn thereof nout herde, 

Til o day that he ferde 

To wode forte shete, 

A page he gan mete,t 

Horn seide, Leve fere, 

Whet dest thou nou here ? 950 

" Sire, in lutel spelle, 

Y maye the sone telle ; 

Ich seche, from Westnesse, 

Horn knyht of Estnesse, 

For Rymenild, that feyre may, 

Soreweth for him nyht and day ; 

A kyng hire shal wedde, 

A Sonneday to bedde ; 

Kyng Mody of Reynis, 

That is Homes enimis. 960 

Ich habbe walked wyde. 

By the see side, 

Ne mihte ich him never cleche. 

With nones kunnes speche ; 

* Original reading : Wheso er, 

■\ Instead of a page, we have, in the French fragment, a palmer or pilgrim (an 
palmer pekrin), in fact, the son of Herlant, his foster-father, and his name turns out 
to be Jocerant. He gives him an account of the treachery of Wilcele, and the 
intended marriage of Rimel, the daughter of Hunlaf, to the king of Fenoie or Fenice 
afterward named Modun. 



Metrical Romances. izp 

Ne may ich of him here, 

In londe fer no nere ; 

Weylawey the while ! 

Him may hente gyle. 

Horn hit herde with earen. 

Ant spec with wete tearen : 970 

So wel, grom, the bitide, 

Horn stond bi thi syde ; 

Ayeyn to Rymenild turne, 

And sey that hue ne murne ; 

Y shal be ther bitime, 

A Sonneday er prime. 

The page wes wel blythe, 

And shipede wel suythe ; 

The see him gon adrynke, 

That Rymenil may of thinke, 980 

The him con ded thhrowe 

Under hire chambre wowe. * 

Rymenild lokede wide. 

By the see syde, 

Yef heo seye Horn come, 

Other tidynge of eny gome ; 

Tho fond hue hire sonde 

Adronque by the stronde, 

That shulde Horn brynge, 

Hire hondes gon hue wrynge. 990 

Horn com to Thurston the kynge.t 
Ant told him thes tidynge ; 
Ant tho he was biknowe, 
That Rymenild wes ys owe ; 
Ant of his gode kenne, 
The kyng of Sudenne : 
Ant hou he sloh afelde 
Him that is fader aquelde ; 
Ant seide, Kyng, so wyse, 

Yeld me my service, 1000 

Rymenild help me to wynne, 
Swythe that thou ne blynne, 

* Conjectural emendation : wind owe. 

f This interview takes place in the French fragment ; which gives the king's 
speech, and the suppliant's harangue, at great length. His name is, there, not 
Thurston, but Gudred or Guddrec. 

R 



130 Ancient English 



Ant y shal do to house 

Thy dohter wel to spouse, 

For hue shal to spouse have 

Athulf my gode felawe ;* 

He is knyht mid the beste, 

And on of the treweste. 

The kyng seide so stille, 

Horn, do al thi wille. loio 

He sende tho by sonde, 

Vend al is londe, 

After knyhtes to fyhte, 

That wer men so lyhte ; 

To him come ynowe, 

That in to shipe drowe. 

Horn dude him in the weye. 
In a gret galeye ; 
The wynd bigon to blowe 

In a Intel throwe ; 1020 

The see bigan with ship to gon. 
To Westnesse hem brohte anon, 
Hue striken seyl of maste, 
Ant ancre gonnen caste. 
Matynes were yronge. 
And the masse ysonge. 
Of Rymenild the yynge, 
Ant of Mody the kynge ; 
Ant Horn wes in watere, 

Ne mihte he come no latere.t 1030 

He let is ship stonde, 
Ant com him up to londe. 
His folk he made abyde X 
Under a wode syde. 

Horn eode forh al one, 
So he sprong of the stone. 
On palmere he ymette,§ 

* Knave would have done better as a rhyme. 

\ Because, had he come later, he would have come too soon. This seems to be 
the meaning. 

X So in the French fragment — 

" Bois avoit environ ou einz sunt enbuschez 
Ki trestuz les coveri quil ne furent avisee." — Fo. 72. 
§ This adventure is also in the original, fo. 72 — 

" En sa voic encontra un paumer penant," 



Metrical Romances. 131 



And with wordes hyne grette : 

Palmere, thou shalt me telle, 

He seyde, of thine spelle, 1040 

So brouke thou thi croune, 

Why comest thou from toune ? 

Ant he seide on is tale, 

y come from a brudale, 

From brudale wylde 

Of maide Remenylde ; 

Ne mihte hue nout dreye. 

That hue ne wep with eye. 

Hue seide that hue nolde 

Be spoused with golde, 1050 

Hue hade hosebonde, 

Thah he were out of londe. 

Ich wes in the halle, 

Withinne the castel-walle, 

Awey y gon glide. 

The dole y nolde abyde ; 

Ther worth a dole reuly. 

The brude wepeth bitterly. 

Quoth Horn, so Crist me rede,* 

* A similar exchange occurs in the copy of Sir Orpheo, in the Auchinlcck 
Manuscript (No. lii.), which will be found in a note on the poem of the same title 
hereafter printed. 

In "The noble hystory of the moost excellent and myghty prynce, and hygh 
renoumed knyght, kynge Ponthus of Galyce, [and the fayre Sydoyne, daughter of 
the kynge] of lytell Brytayne, Enprynted at London in Flete strete at the sygne of 
the Sonne by Wynkyn de Worde, In the yere of our lord god, m.ccccc.xi.," 4to, 
b. 1. fig. L. 6 : is this passage : "And as he [Ponthus] rode he met with a poore 
palmer, beggynge his brede, the whiche had his gowne all to-clouted, and an olde 
pylled hatte ; so, he alyght, and sayd to the palmer, Frende, we shall make a 
chaunge of all our garmentes, for ye shall have my gowne, and i shall have yours and 
your hatte. A, syr, sayd the palmer, ye bourde you with me. In good fayth, sayd 
Ponthus, i do not. So he dyspoyled hym and cladde hym with all his rayment, an 1 
he put upon hym the poore mannes gowne, his gyrdell, his hosyn, his shone, his hatte, 
and his bourdon.'' 

In the ancient poem of " Robyn Hode and the potter " they change clothes in 
the same manner (see Robin Hood, London, T. Egerton, 1795, !• ^^)> ^' ''^^ former 
does again, in the ballad of his " rescuing the widows three sons from the sheriff when 
going to be executed " (11, 153). 

" Now Robin Hood is to Nottingham gone. 
With a link, a down, and a day. 
And there he met with a silly old palmer. 
Was walking along the highway. 



132 Ancient English 



We wolleth chaunge wede ; 1060 

Tac thou robe myne. 

Ant ye sclaveyn * thyne. 

To day y shal ther drynke 

That summe hit shal of thynke. 

Sclaveyn he gon doun legge, 

And Horn hit dude on rugge, 

Ant toe Homes clothes, 

That nout him were lothe. 

Horn toe bordoun and scrippe, 

Ant gan to wringe is lippe, 1070 

He made foule chere. 

And bicollede is swere ; 



***** 
" Come change thy apparel with me, old man, 
Come change thy apparel for mine j 
Here is forty shillings in good silver, 
Go drink it in beer or wine." 

" Oh thine apparel is good, he said, 
And mine is ragged 5 
Wherever you go, wherever you ride, 
Laugh ne'er an old man to scorn. 

" Come change thy apparel with me, old churl, 
Come change thy apparel with mine ; 
Here are twenty pieces of good broad gold. 
Go feast thy brethren with wine." 
He, elsewhere, changes clothes with an old woman. (See Robin Hood and the bishcf, 
11, 19.) 

* A sclaveyn seems to have been the coarse frock of a palmer or pilgrim. It is 
said in Syr Orphco, V. 221 : 

"AUe his kyndam he forsoke, 
And to him a sclaveyn anon he toke." 
Again, V. 328 : 

" His sclaveyn dede he on his bak." 
Thus, too, in Tfie chronicle of Engleland, V. 3 3 : 

" Scheth he heden as hors gret. 
That beren wolle ase her of get. 
Thereof hy raadem hem scla-veyns, 
Ase palmers that beth paynyms." 
Cotgrave, referring from Sclavine to Esclavine, or Esclamme, describes it as " a 
long and thicke riding cloake to bear ofF the raine ; a pilgrims cloake, or mantle ; 
a cloake for a traveller j a sea gowne j a coarse, high collered, and short-sleeved 
gowne, reaching downe to the midleg, and used most by sea- men, and saylers." 



Metrical Romances. 1 3 3 



He com to the gateward. 

That him onsuerede froward 

Horn bed undo wel softe, 

Moni tymc ant ofte, 

Ne myhte he ywinne, 

Forto come therynne. 

Horn the wyket puste, 

That hit open fluste, 1080 

The porter shulde abugge. 

He threw him adoun the brugge,* 

That the ribbes crakede. 

Horn to halle rakede, 

Ant sette him doun wel lowe, 

In the beggeres rowe. 

He lokede aboute, 

Myd is collede snoute, 

Ther seh he Rymenild sitte, 

Ase hue were out of wytte, 1090 

Wepinde sore ; 

Ah he seh no wer thore 

Athulf is gode selawe. 

That trewe wes in uch plawe. 

Athulf wes o tour ful heh, 
To loke fer and eke neh. 
After Homes comynge, \ 
Yef water him wolde brynge ; 
The see he seh flowe. 

Ah Horn no wer rowe ; 1 100 

He seyde on is songe, 
Horn thou art to longe ; 
Rymenild thou me bitoke. 
That ich hire shulde loke, 
Ich have yloked evcre. 
And thou ne comest nevere. 
Rymenild ros of benche t 
The beer al forte shenche, 

■* His treatment of the porter is much the same in the original : — 

" Sur le pont le jeta el parfund des paluz." 
-f- Much circumstantial narrative, in the original, is here omitted : but the follow- 
ing passage seems to be the one alluded to ; though too long to cite entire :■ — 
" En la butelrie Rimel apres coe entree 

Un corn prist grant dunt la liste est gemmee, 



I 3^ Ancient English 



After mete in sale, 

Bothe wyn and ale ; 1 1 lo 

An horn hue ber an honde, 

For that wes lawe of londe. 

Hue drone of the beere. 

To knyht and skyere ; 

Horn set at grounde, 

Him thohte he wes ybounde, 

He seide, Quene, so hende, 

To me hydeward thou wende, 

Thou shench * us with the vurste, 

The beggares bueth afurste, 1 1 20 

Hyre horn hue leyde adoune, 

Ant fulde him of the broune, 

A boUe of a galoun, 

Hue wende he were a glotoun. 

Hue seide, Tac the coppe, 

Ant drync this ber al uppe ; 

Ne seh y never, y wene, 

Beggare so kene. 

Horn toe hit hise yfere, 

Ant seide, Quene, so dere, 1130 

No beer nuUich ibite, 

Bote of coppe white ; 

Kentur la bouche est bien demi pie lee, 
Si est dor AftVicain, a merveille bien overee. 
De piment lad empli beivrc ke bien agree, 
A sun dru le porta cum est la custumee, 
E les autres ensement od vessele dorree. 
Servant al manger en la sale curtinee 
Katre turs unt ja fait ke ne sunt arestee, 
De ci ke vint al quint ke Horn la alisachee, 
Al trespas kele fist par la mance orfreisee 
Puis li a en riant tele parole mustree," 
Then he recommends it to her, for the love of God, to be good to the poor, and 
give somewhat to himself and his companions ; upon which, after returning a pretty- 
answer, she fetches a family cup of great value, replenished with wine, and sets it 
before Horn ; who, to her astonishment, refuses either to drink, or to restore the 
cup. He then discovers himself, in an obscure and equivocal manner, and proposes 
that each should drink half the wine. Once more she delivers to him the cup, into 
which he drops a ring, which, on drinking her part, she receives in her mouth, and 
knows to be that which she had formerly given to Dan Horn ; and here ends this 
curious fragment. 

* Original reading : shenk. 



Metrical Romances. 1 3 5 



Thou wenest ich be a beggere, 

Y wis icham a fysshere, * 

Wei fer come by weste, 

To seche mine beste ; 

Min net lyht her wel hende, 

Withinne a wel feyr pende ; 

Ich have leye there, 

Nou is this the sevethe yere ; 1 140 

Icham icome to loke, 

Yef eny fyssh hit toke ; 

Yef eny fyssh is therinne, 

Ther of thou shalt Wynne ; 

For icham come to fyssh, 

Drynke nully of dyssh : 

Drynke to Horn of home, 

Wel fer ich have yorne, 

Rymenild him gan bihelde. 

Hire hert fel to kelde ; 1 150 

Ne kneu hue noht is fysshyng, 

Ne him selve nothyng : 



* Nothing of this is in the original, at least in Horn's conversation with Rimel. 
He only says to her — 

" 6ele, sachez tie si joe fu jadis custumer 

Ke plus riches vessens me soleit Rom aporter/' 
Modun takes him for a minstrel, who had come to perform on his tabour at the 
marriage : — 

" Ali piert quil est las un lecheur, 

K.i a ces noces vient pur juer od tabur." 
He, however, afterward tells that monarch — 

" Jadis servi ci un home de grant valur, 
Dirai vus mun mester, joe fus un pescur. 
Une rey ke joi bone est a tel labur, 
En une ewe la mis peiscuns prendre a un jur. 
Pres sunt seth anz alez ke ne fis ca retur, 
Ore sui ca venuz sin er regardeur. 
Si ele pescuns ad pris james navera mamur, 
E si uncore sanz ec dune en ere porteur." 
The final word appears in the manuscript with a small 1 ; but what its precise 
meaning is has not been discovered : the context is, that Rimenild sought after 
knives to slay with her [therewith] the king, and herself both : but the king's name 
was not Lothe but Mody. The construction would be scarcely less violent, that 
though she were determined to kill the king at the same time with herself, she was 
loth to do it. 



136 Ancient English 



Ah wonder hire gan thynke, 

Why for Horn he bed drynke. 

Hue fulde the horn of wyne, 

Ant dronk to that pelryne. 

Hue seide, Drync thi felle, 

And seththen thou me telle, 

Yef thou Horn ever seye. 

Under wode-leye. ii6o 

Horn drone of horn astounde. 

Ant threu is ryng to grounde, 

Ant seide, Quene, thou thench 

What y threu in the drench. 

The quene code to boure, 

Mid hire maidnes foure. 

Hue fond that hue wolde. 

The ryng ygraved of golde, 

That Horn of hire hedde, 

Fol sore hyre adredde 11 70 

That Horn ded were. 

For his ryng was there, 

Tho sende hue a damoisele, 

After thilke palmere : 

Palmere, quoth hue, so trewe. 

The ryng that thou yn threwe, 

Thou sey wer thou hit nome. 

Ant hyder hou thou come. 

He seyde. By seint Gyle, 

Ich code mony a myle, 11 80 

Wei fer yent by weste. 

To seche myne beste ; 

Mi mete fort£ bydde, 

For so me tho bitidde 

Ich fond Horn Knyht stonde 

To shipeward at stronde. 

He seide he wolde gesse 

To aryve at Westnesse ; 

The ship nom into flode 

With me and Horn the gode ; 1 190 

Horn bygan be sek and deye, 

And for his love me preye 

To gon with the rynge. 

To Rymenild the yynge, 



Metrical R omances . 137 



Wei ofte he hyiie keste. 

Crist yeve is soule reste ! 

Rymenild seide at the firste, 

Herte nou to berste ! 

Horn worth be no more, 

That haveth the pyned sore. 1200 

Hue fel adoun a bedde, 

And after knyves gredde, 

To slein mide hire kyng Lothe,' 

And hire selve bothe, 

Withinne thilke nyhte, 

Come yef Horn nc myhte. 

To herte knyf hue sette, 

Horn in is armes hire kepte, 

His shurte-lappe he gan take, 

And wypede awey the foule blake 12 10 

That wes opon his fuere ; 

Ant seide, Luef so dere, 

Ne const thou me yknowe ? 

Ne am ich Horn thyn owe ? 

Ich Horn of Westnesse, 

In armes thou me kesse. 

Yclupten and kyste 

So longe so hem lyste. 

Rymenild, quoth he, ich wende 

Doun to the wodes ende, 1220 

For ther bueth myne knyhte, 

Worthi men and lyhte. 

Armed under clothe ; 

Hue shule make wrothe, 

The kyng and hise gestes. 

That bueth at thise festes. 

To-day ychulle huem cacche, 

Nou ichulle huem vacche. 

Horn sprong out of halle, 
Ys bruniehe let falle ; 1230 

* The final word appears in the manuscript lo the ; but what its precise 
meaning is has not been discovered j the context is, that Rimenild sought after knives 
to slay with her [therewith] the king, and herself both ; but the king's name was 
not Lothe by Mody. The construction would be scarcely less violent, that though 
she was determined to kill the king at the same time with herself, she was loth to 
do it, 

s 



1 3 8 Ancient English 



Rymenild eode of boure, 

Athulf hue fond loure : 

"Athulf, be wel blythe, 

Ant to Horn go swythe, 

He is under wode-bowe, 

With felawes ynowe." 

Athulf gon forth* springe, 

For that ilke tydynge, 

Efter Horn he ernde, 

Him thohte is herte bernde, 1240 

He oftok him, y wisse. 

And custe him with blysse. 

Horn tok is preye. 

And dude him in the weye, 

Hue comen in wel sone. 

The yates weren undone, 

Yarmed suithe thicke. 

From fete to the nycke. 

Alle that ther evere weren, 

Withoute is true feren, 1250 

Ant the kyng Aylmare, 

Y wis he hade muche care, 

Monie that ther sete, 

Hure lyf hy gonne lete. 

Horn understondyng ne hede 

Of Fykeles faksede. 

Hue suoren alle, ant seyde. 

That hure non him wreyede. 

Ant suore othes holde, 

That huere non ne sholde 1260 

Horn never bytreye, 

Thah he on dethe leye. 

Ther hy ronge the belle. 

That wedlak to fulfulle, 

Hue wenden hom with eyse, 

To the kynges paleyse, 

Ther wes the brudale suete, 

For richemen ther ete ; 

Telle ne mihte no tonge 

The gle that ther was songe. 1270 

Horn set in chayere. 
And bed hem alle yhere : 



* Original reading : froth. 



Metrical Romances. i^g 



He seyde, Kyng of londe. 

Mi tale thou understonde : 

Ich was ybore in Sudenne, 

Kyng wes mi fader of kenne ; 

Thou me to knyhte hove, 

Of knyhthod habbe y prove ; 

Thou dryve me out of thi lond, 

And seydest ich wes tray tour strong ; 1280 

Thou wendest that ich wrohte 

That y ner ne thohte, 

By Rymenild forte lygge, 

Y wys ich hit withsugge, 

Ne shal ich hit ner agynne 

Er ich Sudenne wynne ; 

Thou kep hyre me astounde, 

The while that ich founde 

Into myn heritage, 

With this Yrisshe page, 1 290 

That lond ichulle thorhreche, 

And do mi fader wreche ; 

Ychul be kyng of toune, 

And lerne kynges roune: 

Then shal Rymenild the yinge 

Ligge by Horn the kynge. 

Horn gan to shipe drawe. 
With hyse Yrisshe felawe, 
Athulf with him his brother. 

He nolde habbe non other. i 300 

The ship bygan to cronde. 
The wynd bleu wel londe, 
Withinne dawes fyve. 
The ship bigan aryve. 
Under Sudennes side,* 
Huere ship by gon to ryde. 

* Horn has just arrived in this ship, from Westnesse, it would seem, where 
he has been married to Rymenild ; and, in an address to Icing Aylmer, her father, 
says, in answer to an old calumny that he had attempted to lie with his daughter, 
" Y wys ich hit with sugge, 
Ne shal ich hit ner agynne 
Er ich Sudenne wynne ; 
Thou kep hyre me astounde. 
The while that ich soundc, 
Into my hentagc." 



1^0 Ancient English 



Aboute the midnyhte 

Horn code wel rihte, 

He nom Athulf by hondc, 

And ede up to londe ; '3'° 

Hue fonden under shelde, 

A knyht liggunde on felde, 

O the shelde wes ydrawe, 

A croyz of Jhesu Cristes lawe, 

The knyght hym lay on slape, 

In armes wel yshape, 

Horn him gan ytake, 

And seide, Knyht, awake ; 

Thou sei me whet thou kepest, 

And here whi thou slcpcst ; '3^° 

Me thinkes by crois liste, 

That thon levest on Cristc, 

Bote thou hit wolle shewe. 

My suerd shal the to hewe. 

The gode knyght up aros, 

Of Homes wordcs him agros : 

He seide ich servy ille, 

Paynes to-yeynes mi wille : 

Ich wes Cristene sum while, 

Ycome into this ylc, I33° 

Sarazynes lothe and blake. 

Me made Jhesu forsake. 

To loke this passage. 

For Horn that is of age. 

That woneth her by-weste, 

God knyht mid the beste. 

Hue slowe mid hiiere honde 

The kyng of thisse londe, 

Ant with him mony honder, 

Therfore me thuncheth wonder 134° 



Me is now anived, in a ship, "under Sudennes side." He, afterward, tells the knight, 
Athulf's father, 

" Icham icome into Sudcmie, 
With fele Yrisshenienne." 
So that, it is evident, that the poet has either, in some places, confounded the two 
kingdoms of Westnesse and Sudene (or Britain) with each other ; or, in others, has 
split that of Sudene, otherwise Westnesse, into two^ 



Metrical Romance.'. 141 

That he ne cometh to fyhte, 

God yeve him the myhte 

That wynd him hider dryve, 

To don hem alle of lyve, 

And slowen kyng Mury, 

Horn es com es mon hardy. 

Horn of lond hue senten, 

Tuelf children with him wenten, 

With hem wes Athulf the gode, 

Mi child, my oune fode. 135° 

Yef Horn is hoi ant sounde, 

Athulf tit no wounde, 

He lovede Horn with mihte, 

And he him with ryhte ; 

Yef y myhte se hem tueye, 

Thenne ne nohte i forte deye. 

" Knyht, be thenne blythe, 

Mest of alle sythe, 

Athulf ind Horn is fere, 

Both we beth here." 1360 

The knyht to Horn gan skippe, 

And in his armes clippe 

Muchjoye hue maden yfere, 

Tho hue to gedere ycome were. 

He saide, with stevene tharc, 

Yungemen, hou habbe ye yore yfare.? 

Woll ye this lond wynne, 

And wonie therynne ? 

He seid, Suete Horn child, 

Yet lyveth thy moder Godyld? '37° 

Of joie hue ne miste 

Olyve yet hue the wiste. 

Horn seide, on is ryme, 

Yblessed be the time, 

Icham icome into Sudenne, 

With fele Yrisshemenne, 

We shule the houndes kecche, 

And to the deye vecche ; 

Ant so we shulen hem techc 

To speken our speche. 1380 

Horn gan is horn blowe. 
Is folk hit con yknowe. 



142 Ancient English 



Hue comen out of hurne, 

To Horn swythe yurne ; 

Hue smiten, and hue fyhten, 

The niht and eke the ohtoun ; 

The Sarazyns hue slowe, 

Ant summe quike to drowe, 

Mid speres ord hue stonge, 

De the olde and eke the yonge. '390 

Horn lette sone wurche, 
Bothe chapel and chyrche ; 
He made belle rynge, 
Ant prestes masse synge ; 
He sohte is moder halle, 
In the roche walle ; 
He custe hire ant grettc, 
Ant into the castel sette 
Croune he gan werie. 

Ant make feste merye, 1400 

Murie he ther wrohte, 
Ah Rymenild hit abohte. 

The whiles Horn wes oute 
Fikenild ferde aboute, 
The betere forte spede, 
The riche he yef mede, 
Bothe yonge ant olde, 
With him forte holde ; 
Ston he dude lade, 

Ant lym therto he made, 1410 

Castel he made sette, 
With waterre by flette, 
That theryn come ne myhte, 
Bote foul with flyhte, 
Bote when the see withdrowe 
Ther mihte come ynowe. 
Ther P'ykenild gon by wende, 
Rymenild fort^ shende, 
To wyve he gen hire yerne. 

The kyng ne durst him werne, 14ZO 

Ant habbeth set the day 
Fykenild to wedde the may ; 
Wo was Rymenild of mode, 
Terres hue wepte of blode. 



Metrical R omances . 143 

Thilke nyhte Horn suete 
Con wel harde mete 
Of Rymenild his make, 
That into shipe wes take, 
The ship gon ovcrblenche 

Is lemmon shulde adrenche. '43° 

Rymenild mid hire honde 
Swymme wolde to londe, 
Fykenild ayeyn hire pylte. 
Mid his suerdes hylte. 
Horn awek in is bed, 
Of his lemmon he wes adred ; 
Athulf, he seide, felawe, 
To shipe nou we drawe ; 
Fykenild me hath gon under, 
Ant do Rymenild sum wonder. 1440 

Crist, for his wondes fyve. 
To nyhte thider us dryve ! 
Horn gone to shipe ride, 
His knyhtes bi his side. 
The ship bigon to sture. 
With wynd god of cure, 
Ant Fykenild, her the day springe, 
Sende to the kynge. 
After Rymenild the bryhte. 

Ant spousede hyre by nyhte, 1450 

He ladde hire by derke. 
Into his newe werke. 
The feste hue bigonne 
Er then aryse the sonne. 
Homes ship at stod in stoure. 
Under Fykenildes boure, 
Nuste Horn alyve 
Wher he wes aryve, 
Thene castel hue ne knewe. 
For he was so newe. 14.60 

The see bigon to withdrawe, 
Tho seh Horn his felawe. 
The feyre knyht Arnoldyn, 
That wes Athulfes cosyn, 
That ther set in that tyde 
Kyng Horn to abyde. 



144- Ancient English 



He seide, Kyng Horn, kyngesone, 
Hider thou art welcome, 
To-day hath sire Fykenild 

Yweddeth thi wif Rymenild, 1470 

White the nou this while, 
He haveth do the gyle ; 
This tour he dude make, 
Al for Rymenildes sake ; 
Ne may ther comen ynne 
No mon with na gynne. 
Horn, nou Crist the wisse, 
Rymenild that thou ne misse ! 
Horn couthe alle the listes 
That eni mon of wistc. 1480 

Harpe he gon shewe, 
Ant toe him to felawe, 
Knyhtes of the beste 
That he ever hede of weste, 
Onen o the sherte. 
Hue gurden huem with suerde, 
Hue eoden on the gravele 
Towart the castele. 
Hue gonne murie singe, 

And makeden huere gleynge ; '49° 

That Fykenild mihte y-here, 
He axede who hit were. 
Men seide hit were harperis, 
Jogelers, ant fythelers. 
Hem ne dude in lete, 
At halle dore hue sete. 
Horn sette him abenche, 
Is harpe he gan clenche ; 
He made Rymenild a lay. 
Ant hue seide weylaway ! * 1 500 

* A lay,' as before observed, is generally an amorous, tender, and elegiac song. 
He seems, on this occasion, to be acting the part of a minstrel. 

The interjection of sorrow, 'weil-a-vjay^ which Mr. Tyrwhitt found variously 
orthographised in the MSS, of Chaucer, he uniformly spells lualaiua conformably 
to its Saxon etymology, which was not only inexcusable, but inconsistent 
with his own practice, as a MS. is very rarely uniform in its orthography. It seems 
to have been the burden of some ancient popular song. Thus, in the Coventry play, 
Abraham says to Isaac — 

" Thy meekenes, childe, makes me afreay. 
My eonge maye be ivaile-a-ivaye,^' 



Metrical Romances. 



'45 



1510 



Rymenild fel yswowe, 
Tho nes ther non that lowe, 
Hit smot Horn to herte, 
Sore con him smerte. 
He lokede on is rynge, 
Ant o Rymenild the yynge. 
He eode up to borde, 
Mid his god suorde ; 
Fykenildes croune 
He fel ther adoune, 
Ant alle is menne arowe, 
He dude adoun throwe, 
Ant made Arnolydn kyng there, 
After kyng Aylmere, 
To be kyng of Westnesse, 
For his mildnesse ; 
The kyng ant is baronage 
Yeven him truage. 

Horn toe Rymenild by honde, 



Ant ladde hire to stronde, 1520 

Ant toe with him Athelbrus, 
The gode stiward of hire fader hous. 
The see bigan to flowen, 
Ant hy faste to rowen, 
Hue aryveden under reme 
In a wel feyr streme ; 
Kyng Mody wes kyng in that lond, 
That Horn sloh with is hond, 
Athelbrus he made ther kyng, 
For his gode techyng, 153° 

For sire Homes lore 
He wes mad kyng thore. 
Horn eode to ryve, 



The wynd him con wel dryve. 
He aryvede in Yrlonde, 
Ther Horn wo couthe er fonde 
He made ther Athulf chyld 
Wedde mayden Ermenyld ; 



1A.6 



Ancient English Metrical Romances. 



Ant Horn com to Sudenne, 

To is oune kenne ; 

Rymenild he made ther is quene, 

So hit rayhte bene. 

In trcwe love hue lyveden ay, 

Ant wel hue loveden godes lay : 

Nou hue beoth bothe dede, 

Crist to heovene us leode ! 



1540 




THE KYNG OF TARS. 



This pious legend is taken out of an immense folio in the Bodleian 
library, known by the title of Manuscript Vernon, being a present 
from Edward Vernon, Esq., formerly of Trinity College, who 
commanded a company for the king in the civil wars, and in 
whose family it appears to have been for many years. The 
writing is apparently of the fourteenth century. 

Another copy, of equal, if not greater, antiquity, but imperfect 
at the end, is preserved in the Auchinleck MS. in the Advocates' 
Library, Edinburgh. Scarcely two lines together are exactly 
alike ; but it is not, upon the whole, a better copy, except as it, 
in one place, supplies an omission. 

The title of the Bodleian MS. is in rhyme : 

" Her bigenneth of the kyng of Tars, 
And of the soudan of Dammas j* 
How the soudan of Dammas 
Was Icristned thoru godes grace." 

That it has been translated from the French is evident from the 
poet's repeated references to his original : 
" In stori as we rede. 

As ich'finde in my sawe." 

• Damas is Damascus, and Tars, Thrace. See Bishop Douglas's Virgil, and 
Ruddiman's Ghssary. 



THE KYNG OF TARS; 



SOUDAN OF DAMMAS. 



Herkneth now, bothe olde and yyng, 
For Maries love, that swete thyng, 

How a werre bigan 
Bitwene a god Cristene kyng. 
And an hethene heyhe lordyng 

Of Damas the soudan. 
The kyng of Taars hedde a wyf, 
The feireste that mighte here lyf, 

That eny mon telle can ; 
A doughter thei hadde hem bitween. 
That heore rihte heir scholde ben,* 

White so fether of swan. 



Chaast heo was and feir of chere, 
With rode red so blosme on brere, 

Eyyen stepe and graye, 
With lowe schuldres, and whyte swere, 
Hire to sec was gret preyere 

Of princes pert in play. 
The word of hire sprong ful wyde 
Feor and ner, bi uche a syde, 20 

The soudan herde say, 
Him thoughte his herte wolde breke on five 
Bot he mihte have hire to wyve. 

That was so feir a may. 

• The Edinburgh MS. reads — 

" Non fairer woman mizt ben," 
and contains variations, more or less important, in almost every line. 



Ancient English Metrical Romances. 149 

The soudan ther he sat in halle, 
He sente his messagers faste withalle 

To hire fader the kyng, 
And seide hou so hit ever bifalle, 
That maide he wolde clothe in palle, 

And spousen hire with his ryng : ' 30 

"And elles i swere, withouten fayle, 
And schul hire winnen in pleyn batayle, 

With mony an heih lordyng." 
The messagers ben forth iwent, 
To don heor lordes comaundement, 
Withouten eny dwellyng. 

Whon the kyng this understood, 
For wraththe neih he waxeth wood, 

And seyde al in his sawe. 
Be hym that dyyed on the rod, 40 

Rather wolde i spille my blod, 

And in batayle ben slawe ; 
And al the lond that is myn, 
Ar heo scholde wedde a Sarazyn, 

The devil him er to diawe ; 
But heo wolle bi hire goode wille 
Wend to him hireself to spille, 

Hire thoughtes nouht i knawe. 

That schul ye witen ar ye pase. 

His doughter com forth in that place, 50 

Tofore hire fader blyve. 
Doughter, he seide, the soudan of Damas 
Desyreth for to seo thi fas. 

And have the to wyve. 
Doughter wolt thou for eny tresour 
Forsake Crist ur saveour, 

That soiFrede woundes fyve ? 
The mayde onswerde, with mylde mood. 
To hire fader ther he stod. 

Nay, lord, so mot i thryve. 60 



' Original reading : ryg. 



150 Ancient English 

Jhcsu, thai dyyed on the tree, 
Let me nevere that day isee 

A tiraunt for to take. 
For Marie love that mayden freo, 

god and persones threo, 
Arst yif him wan and wraice. 

Doughtur, he seide, beo now stille, 
Thow schalt never be weddet him tille 
For bost that he con make ; 

1 schal him seende such wordes to seyn, 70 
That al his thought schal turne to veyn, 

For thou hast him forsake. 

Bi theos same messagers, 

That Cometh from the soudan fers, 

Theos wordes to him he sent : 
Heo nolde not leeven on his maneers, 
To god heo made hire preyers, 

That lord omnipotent ; 
And bad him take another thought. 
For hire ne scholde he wedde nouht, 80 

For gold, selver, ne rent. 
Whon the messagers this herde seyn 
Soone thei tornede hem ayeyn. 

And to the soudan went. 

The Soudan sat at his des,* 
Iserved of his furste mes. 

Thei comen into the halle, 
Tofore the prince proud in pres, 
Heore tale thei tolden withouten lees. 

And on heore knees gunne falle : 90 

And seide. Sire, the kyng of Tars 
Of wikkede wordes nis not scars, 

Hethene hound he doth the calle,t 

* The Edinburgh manuscript reads better — 

** As the soudan sat at his des." 

•|- That the Christians of former ages entertained an inveterate antipathy to the 
Mahometans (who, certainly, would not have been much less intolerant) is apparent 
from the ancient romances of chivalry, French or English, in which this equally 
polite and religious appellation, frequently occurs. Thus, In Syr Bpvys, that gallant 
knight, as we learn from the right reverend editor of The Relifues of Ancient Englhfi 
Pcetry, is so full of zeal for his religion, as to return the following message to a 



Metrical Romances. 



And er his doughter be yive the tille, 
Thyn herte blod he wod spille, 
And thi barouns alle. 

Whon the soudan this iherde 
As a wod mon he ferde, 

His robe he rente adoun, 
He tar the her of hed and herd, loo 

And seide he wolde hir wive with swerd, 

Beo his lord seynt Mahoun. 
The table adoun riht he smot, 
In to the flore foot hot. 

He lokede as a wylde lyon ; 
Al that he hitte he smot doun riht, 
Both sergaunt and kniht, 

Erl and eke baroun. 

So he ferde forsothe a pliht 

Al a day and al a niht, I lO 

That no mon mihti hym chaste ; 
A morwen, whon hit was day-liht, 
He sent his messagers ful riht 

After his barouns in haste :* 
[That thai com to his parlement, 
For to heren his jugement, 

Bothe lest and mast ; 
When the parlement was pleyner. 
The bispact the soudan fer, 

And seyd to hem I in hast:] 120 



Paynim king's fair daughter, who had fallen in love with him, and sent two Saracen 
knights to invite him to her bower — 

" I wyll not ones stirre of this grounde, 
To speke with an hethene hounde : 
Unchristen hounde*, I rede you flee, 
Or i your harte bloude shal se." 

Indeed, he adds, they return the compliment, by calling him elsewhere "a christen 
hounde.'' 

* This half of the stanza has been borrowed from the Advocates' copy, being 
omitted in the Oxford one, and being of itself, apparently, not perfectly correct. 

\ Original reading : hi epac, 

X Original reading : him. 



I 5 2 Ancient English 



Lordynges, he seith, what to rede ? 
Me is don a gret misdede, 

Of Taars the Cristene kyng ; 
I bed hem bothe lond and lede, 
To have his douhter in worthli wede, 

And spouse hire with my ryng : 
And he seide, withouten fayle, 
Arst he wolde me sle in batayle, 

And mony a gret lordyng ; 
Ac sertes he schal be forswore, 130 

Or to wrote hele that he was bore, 

Bote he hit ther to bring. 

Therfore, lordinges, i have after ow sent, 
For to come to my parliment. 

To wite of yow counsayle ; 
And alle onswerde, with good entent, 
Thei wolde be at his comaundement 

Withouten eny fayle. 
And, whon thei were alle at his heste, 
The soudan made a wel gret feste, 140 

For love of his batayle; 
The soudan gederet an ost unryde, 
With Sarazins of muchel pryde, 

The kyng of Tars to assayle. 

Whon the kyng hit herde that tyde 
He sente aboute on uche a syde 
Alle that he mihte of seende ; 
Gret werre tho bigon to wrake, 
For the mariage ne moste be take 

Of that mayden heende. 150 

Batayle thei sette uppon a day, 
Withinne the thridde day of May, 

No lengor nolde thei leende ; 
The soudan com with gret power. 
With helm briht, and feir baneer, 
Uppon that kyng to wende. 

The soudan ladde an huge oft. 
And com with muche pruyde and bost, 
With the kyng of Tars to fihte, 



Metrical Romances. 157 



With hym mony a Sarazin seer, 160 

Alle the feldes feor and neer 

Of helmes leomede lihte. 
The kyng of Tars com also, 
The soudan batayle for to do, 

With mony a Cristene kniht ; 
Eyther ost gon other assayle, 
Ther bigon a strong batayle. 

That grislych was of siht. 

Threo hethene ayein twey Cristene men. 

And falde hem doun in the fen, 170 

With wepnes stif and goode ; 
The steorne Sarazins, in that fiht, 
Slowe ur Cristene men doun riht, 

Thei fouhte as heo weore woode. 
The soudan oft in that stounde 
Feolde the Cristene to the grounde, 

Mony a freoly foode ; 
The Sarazins withouten fayle 
The Cristene culde in that batayle, 

Nas non that hem withstode. 180 

Whon the kyng of Tars sauh that fiht, 
Wodde he was for wraththe apliht. 

In hond he hent a spere. 
And to the soudan he rod ful riht, 
With a dunt of muche miht, 

Adoun he gon him bere. 
The soudan neigh he hedde islawe, 
But thritti thousent of hethene lawe, 

Coomen him for to were. 
And broughten him ayeyn uppon his steede, 190 

And holpe him wel in that nede, 

That no mon mihte him dere. 

Whon he was brouht uppon his stede, 
He sprong as sparkle doth of glede. 

For wraththe and for envye ; 
Alle that he hutte he made hem blede. 
He ferde as he wolde a wede, 

Mahoun, help ! he gan crye. 
u 



158 Ancient English 



Mony an helm ther was unweved. 

And mony a bacinet to-cleved, 200 

And sadeles mony emptye ; 
Men mihte se uppon the feld 
Moni a kniht ded under scheld, 

Of the Cristene cumpaignye. 

Whon the king of Tars saugh hem so ryde, 
No lengor there he nolde abyde, 

Bote fleyh to his oune cilh ; 
The Sarazins that ilke tyde 
Slough adoun bi uche a side 

Ur Cristene folk so fre. 210 

The Sarazins that tyme faunz fayle 
Slowe ur Cristene in batayle, 

That reuthe hit was to se ; 
And on the morwe for heore sake 
Truwes thei gunne togidere take, 

A moneth and dayes thre. 

As the king of Tars sat in his halle, 
He made ful gret deol withalle, 

For the folk that he hedde ilore ; 
His douhter com in riche palle, 220 

On kneos heo gon biforen him falle, 

And seide with syking sore : 
Fader, heo seide, let me beo his wyf, 
That ther be no more strif 

Then hath ben her bifore ; 
For me hath be much folk schent, 
Slawen and morthred, and to-rent. 

Alias, that i was bore ! 

Fader, ichulle him serve at wille, 

Erli and late, loude and stille, 230 

And leeven on god almiht ; 
Bote hit be so he wol the spille. 
And al thi londes take hym tille. 

In batayle and in fiht. 
Certes, i nul no lengor drye 
That Cristene men schul for me dye, 

Thorw grace of god almiht ; 



Metrical Romances. i S 9 



Then was the kyng of Tars ful wo 
Anon he onswerde tho 
To his doughter briht. 

Douhter, he seide, blessed thou be 
Of god that sit in trinitie 

The tyme that thou were bore, 
That thou wolt save thi moder and me 
Thi preyere now i graunte the 

Of that thou bede before. 
Fader, heo seide, fur charite. 
And for Crist in trinite, 

Blyve that ich weore thore, 
Ar eny more serwe arere, ^S*-* 

That ye ne my moder dere 

For me beo nought forlore. 

The kyng tho, with good entent. 
In to his chaumbre hath isent 

Aftur his qween so hende, 
Whon heo was comen in present. 
Dame, he seide, ur doughter hath ment * 

To the soudan for to weende. 
Dame, he seid, counseyle me, 
Her beoth no mo bote we thre z6o 

Icomen of Cristene kende. 
The qween onswerde, withouten fayle, 
Therto schal i nevere counsayle 

Ure douhter for to schende. 

Thenne was the doughter wo, 
Merci heo criyede hire moder tho, 

With a reuthful stevene: 
" Moder, hit nis not longe a gon 
That ther wer for me slon 

Threo thousent men and sevene ; 270 

And certes i nul no lengor drye 
That Cristen men schul for me dye, 

Thorwgh grace of god in hevene." 
Weore thai wel, weore thei wrothe. 
The doughter dude overcome hem bothe 

Beo riht reson and evene. 



* Original reading : munt. 



l6o Ancient English 



Whon thei weoren thus aton 
Messageres he sente anon 

To the proude soudan, 
To make frendes that weore fon, 280 

No mo folk thei wolde slon, 

His doughter he graunted him than. 
Whon the messagers thus herde seyn 
Smartliche thei tornede ayeyn, 

To the soudan swart and wan ; 
Whon he herde heore lettres rade 
Then was he bothe blithe and glad, 

And murie as eny man. 

Aud seide, Ichul ben at his wille, 

Erly and late, loude and stille, 290 

And help him at his neode ; 
No mo folk nul i now spille : 
The kyng anon he sende tille 

And thonkede him of that dede. 
The kyng and qwene in chaumbre were tho, 
In care and serwe and muche wo. 

In stori as we rede ; 
Wei hem was withoute les 
That the soudan wolde make pes 

With Cristen felaurede. 300 

This fel in mid-somer tyde 

The soudan nolde no lengor byde. 

To the kyng of Tars he sent, 
With Sarazins, and with muche pryde. 
With mony a juwel, is nought to huyde. 

To make him a present. 
Forth thei went that ilke tyde. 
To the kyng of Tars thei gan ryde. 

That was bothe freo and gent ; 
Thei welcomed the messagere, 310 

Of gret reuthe ye may here, 

Whon thei to chaumbre went. 

In chaumbre kyng and qwene was tho. 
In serwe and care and muche wo. 
For heore doughter hende ; 



Metrical Romances. 1 6 1 



Heor doughter can bifore hem go, 
And bad hem bi hire counseil do, 

To save Cristene kende. 
The doughter ther with wordes stille 
Brought hem bothe in beter wille, 320 

And in to halle gunne wende. 
And welcomede the messagers, 
That come fro the soudan fers. 

With wordes feire and hende. 

Then seide the qwene after than, 
Hou fareth yor lord the soudan. 

That is so noble a kniht ? 
The messagers onswere gan, 
He fareth as wel as eny man, 

And is yor friend apliht. 330 

The qweene onswerde, with mylde mod, 
To the messagers ther thei stod. 

And swor thenne anon riht, 
Ich fouchesaf on him my blod. 
To him heo nis not to good, 

Thaugh heo weore ten so briht. 

The messagers weore glad and blythe, 
With knihtes fele and stedes stythe 

Thei brouhte hire to chare ; 
The kyng and qwen weoren unblithe, 340 

Heore sorwe couthe no mon kithe. 

To seon hire from hem fare. 
Thei seye hit mihte non other go 
The kyng and the qwene also 

Thei custe heore doubter thare, 
Bitaughten hire god for evermo : 
Hem self ayeyn thei tornede tho. 

Of blisse thei weore al bare. 

Nou lete we of that mournyng. 

And speke we of that maiden ying, 350 

To the soudan heo is ifare ; 
He come with mony an heigh lordyng 
For to welcome that swete thing 

Ther heo com in hire chare. 



1 62 Ancient English 



He custe hire wel mony a sithe, 
His joye couthe no mou kithe, 

Awei was al hire care ; 
In to chaumbre heo was led. 
With riche clothes heo was clede, 

Hethene as thaugh heo ware. 360 

The soudan ther he sat in halle, 
He comaundede his knihtes alle 

That maiden for to fette ; 
In cloth of riche purpel palle, 
And on hire hed a comeli calle, 

Bi the soudan heo was sette. 
Unsemely was hit for to se 
Heo that was so briht of ble 

To habbe so foul a mette, 
Thaugh heo made merthe and solas. 
The serwe at hire herte was, 

Ne mihte no mon hit lette. 

When hit com to the niht, 
Leve heo tok that buirde briht, 

To chaumbre for to wende, 
With hire wente moni an hethen kniht, 
A riche bed ther was idiht 

For that maiden hende. 
Whon hit was al redi wrought, 
The soudan nolde therin come nouht, 380 

For fo ne for frende ; 
But he mihte make that may 
To leeven uppon his false lay. 

That com of Cristene kende. 

Ful loth were a Cristene mon 
To ligge bi an hethene wommon. 

That leevede on false lawe. 
And as loth was thulke soudan 
Thulke maiden for to tan. 

As ich fynde in my sawe. ,00 

The soudan went to bedde al prest, 
Knihtes and ladyes token heore rest. 

Folk heo gonne withdrawe ; 



Me tried Romances. 163 



The mayden no thing ne slepe, 
But al niht lay and wepe 
Forte that day gon dawe. 

And as heo fel a slepe thore 

Hir thoughte ther stod hire bifore 

An hundred houndes blake, 
And borken on hire lasse and more, 400 

On ther was that greved hire sore, 

Awei he wolde hire take. 
Ac heo ne durste him not smyte. 
For drede leste he wolde hire byte. 

Such maystries he gon make ; 
And as heo wolde awei fle, 
Hir thoughte ther stode develes thre, 

Al brennyng as a drake. 

So gryslich thei were wrought, 

Uche of hem a swerd brought, 410 

And mad hire afert so sore ; 
On Jhesu Crist was al hire thouht, 
Therfore thei mihte hire harme nouht, 

Nouther lasse ne more. 
Fro the fendes heo was delyvered sound, 
But atte laste ther com an hound, 

With brode brouwes and hore. 
Almost he hedde hire adoun. 
But, thorw Cristes passioun, 

Heo was isaved thore. 420 

Yit thouhte* hire more, withoute lesyng. 
As heo lay in hire swevenyng, 

Selcouth hit is to rede, 
The blake hound, that hire was folewyng, 
Thorw the miht of hevene kyng. 

To hire spac in monhede, 
In whit ermure as a kniht. 
And seide to hire, My swete wight, 

Ne dar the no thing drede 
Of Tirmagaunt ne of Mahoun, 430 

The lord that sofFrede passioun 
The schal helpe at nede. 

* Original reading : thougte. 



164 Ancient English 



Whon the mayde was awaked 
Hire flesch i wis was al aquaked 

For drede of hire swevenynge, 
On hire bed heo sat al naked, 
To Jhesu Crist hire mone heo maked, 

Al mihtful hevene kynge, 
As wis as he hire deore bouhte 
That hire sweuene that heo thouhte 44.0 

Scholde tome to good endynge. 
Whon the maiden arysen was, 
A non the soudan of Damas, 

In to his temple he let hire bringe 

And seide to that feire may. 
Thou most leeven uppon my lay, 

And knele her adoun. 
Forsake thou most thi false lay. 
That thou hast leved on mony a day, 

And leeven on fire Mahoun. 450 

Certes, but thou wolt do so, 
Thie fader and moder ichulle slo, 
Bi Jovin and Plotoun;* 
Bi Mahoun, and bi Tirmagaunt, 
No mon schal be heore waraunt, 

Emperour ne kyng with croun. 

The mayden onswerde, with glad chere, 
To the soudan as ye may heere. 

Sire, i nul the no thing greve, 
Tel me which is youre maneere, 450 

So schal i make my preyere, 

And on yor goddes leeve. 
To Tirmagaunt ichul me take, 
And Jhesu Crist ichul forsake. 

That made Adam and Eve, 
And serve the, sire, at thi wille, 
Erli and late, loud and stille, 

A morwe and eke an eve. 

•« Sire Jovin," a few lines below, is ,. different deity from "Jubiter," and, as 
Warton suggests, may mean the Roman Emperor Jovinian, against whom St. 
Jerome wrote, and whose history ia in the Gesta Romamrum, C. 59. Plotoun is 
Pluto. 



Metrical Romances . 165 



Then was the soudan glad and blithe, 

Mahoun he thonkede feole sithe 470 

That heo was so biknowe ; 
His joyes couthe no mon kithe. 
He bad hire go about swithe. 

And cusse his goddes arowe. 
Furst he custe Appolin,* 
Astrot,t and sire Jovin, 

For drede of worldes awe ; 
In the temple whil heo was ther 
Of Mahoun and Jubiter 

Ther heo lernde the lawe. 480 

Whon that heo hire lawes couthe 
Heo seide hem openly with mouthe, 

Ac Crist foryat he nouht ; 
Wher heo weore bi north or southe 
Nas munstral non with harpe ne crouthe 

That ones mihte chaunge hire thought. 
Evere wende the soudan niht and day, 
Heo hedde ileeved on his lay, 

And yit he was bicauht ; 
Whon heo was hire self alone 490 

To Jhesu Crist heo made hire mone 

That al this world hath wrought. 

The soudan for hire love that tyde 
Let criye on his lond bi uch a syde 

A turnament to take ; 
The strengest that mihte on hors ryde, 
He dubbede hem with muche pryde, 

And knihtes he let hem make. 



•Apollo, "^uel dieu,'' says a Saracen to Joseph of Arimathea, ^^croyez vous? 
Nous ne avons que quatre dieux, Mahom, Tervagant, Apolin, et Jupin." {Lancelot da 
laCy tome 2, fo. 46.) One of these Saracen deitys occurs in Syr Be-vys : — 

" And if thou wylt thy god forsake. 
And to Apolyne, our god the betake," &c. 

f Ashtaroth, the goddess of the Zidonians, occasionally worshipped by the 
children of Israel. See I Kings xi., 5, 33. 

X 



1 66 Ancient English 



Trompors gunne heore hemes blowe, 

The knihtes riden out on a rowe, 500 

On stedes white and blake ; 
Anon rihte also swithe, 
Stronge men gon maystries kithe 

For that maidenes sake. 

The mayden and the soudan, 
In a tour thei leyen than, 

The turnament to biholde ; 
When the turnament bigon 
Ther was a semblet mony a mon, 

Of Sarazins stout and bolde. 510 

Heo leyden on as heo weore wode, 
With swerdes and with maces goode, 

Knihtes yonge and olde ; 
So thei foughte with egre mood, 
Of heore bodies ran the blod. 

In tale as hit is tolde. 

Mony an helm ther was unweved. 
And bacinettes al to dreved. 

And knihtes icast to grounde ; 
And summe pleyed of the heved, 520 

And summe heore scolles icleved. 

With serwe thei weore unsounde. 
So laste the turnement apliht. 
Fro the morwe to the niht, 

Ther yeven was moni a wounde : 
A morwe the soudan wedded that may 
In the maner of his lay, 

In stori as hit is founde. 

The soudan and that ladi fre, 

Thei weore togeder but monethes thre, 530 

That heo ne was grete with childe ; 
Heo gon to chaunge al hire bleo. 
The soudan self hit gon iseo, 

Joly he wax and wylde. 
Then was the ladi swithe wo, 
Jhesu heo bisoughte tho 

From schome he scholde hire schilde ; 



Metrical Romances. 1 67 



And bi the fourti wikes ende, 
Heo was delyvered out of beende, 

Thorw help of Marie mylde. 540 

And whon the child was ibore 
Wo was the midwyf therfore, 

For lymes hedde hit non ; 
But as aroonde of flesche icore 
In chaumbre lay hire bifore, 

Withouten bled or bon. 
The ladi was wo as heo wolde dye, 
Hit hedde nouther neose nor eiye, 

But lay stille as a ston ; 
The soudan com that ilke tyde, 55a 

And with his wyf he gon to chyde, 

That wo was hire bigon. 

" Sertes dame, i sei the bifore, 
Ayeyn my goddes thou art forswore, 

Bi riht reson i preve ; 
Therfore this child that is ibore, 
Lyf and lyme hit is forlore, 

Thorw thi false byleeve. 
Thou leevest not riht afyn. 
On Astrot ne on Jovyn, 560 

On morwe ne on eve j 
On Mahoun ne on Tirmagaunt, 
Therfore iloren is this luytel faunt. 

No wonder thaugh me greve." 

Then the ladi was ful wo, 
Anon onswerde the soudan the, 

Sire, let be thi thouht ; 
The child that we have togedere two. 
For thi bileeve hit fareth so, 

Bi him that me hath wrouht. 570 

Tak hit up wel sone anon. 
And to yor temple therwith ye gon. 

And loke ye lette hit nouht ; 
And preye thi goddes alle ifeere, 
As thow art hem bothe lef and dere, 

To lyve that hit beo brouht. 



1 68 Ancient English 



And yif Mahoun and Jovin con 
Make hit iformed aftur mon, 

With lyf and lymes ariht ; 
Be him that al this world wan, 5^0 

Ichul bileeve upon hem than 

That thei beoth muchel of miht; 
And but thei hit conne to lyve bringe. 
On hem byleeve i nul no thinge, 

Nouther bi day nor niht. 
The child he tok up anon. 
In to his temple he con gon 

Bifore his godes hit diht. 

Uppon his auter he con hit leyn. 

And heold up his hondes tweyn, 590 

The mountaunce of fyve myle : 
A, mihtful Mahoun, he gan sayn. 
And Tirmagaunt so ful of mayn. 

In yow nas never gyle ; 
Astrot and sire Jovin, 
Tirmagaunt and Appolin, 

Now help in this peryle ! 
Ofte he criyede, and ofte he ros. 
So longe that he wox al hos, 

And al he loste his while. 600 

Whon he hedde altogedere ipreyd, 
And al that evere he couthe iseyed, 

Hit lay as stille as ston ; 
He sturte him up in a breyd. 
In his herte sore atrayyed. 

For boote com ther non. 
Uppon his child he gan to calle, 
Ne holpe him nought his goddes alle, 

Wei wo was him bigon ; 
On Tirmagaunt he gon to grede, 610 

" On yow nas never help at nede, 

Fy on ow everichon ! " 

He hente a staf with herte grete. 

And al his goddes he gan to bete, 

And drouh hem alle adoun. 



Metrical Romances. 169 



And leyde on til that he con swete, 
With Sterne strokes and with grete, 

On Jovyn and Plotoun ; 
On Astrot and sire Jovin, 
On Tirmagaunt and Appolin, 620 

He brak hem scolle and croun ; 
On Tirmagaunt, that was heore brother, 
He laste no lyme hole with other, 

Ne on his lord seynt Mahoun. 

Whon thei weore bete ful good won 
The child lay stille as eny ston ; 

Uppon his auteere ; 
The child he tok up sone anon, 
In to his chaumbre he gan gon, 

And seide. Dame, have hit here : 630 

Ichave i don al that i con 
To don hit formen after mon. 

With beodes and with preyere ; 
To alle my goddes ich have bisouht, 
Non of hem con helpe hit nouht ; 

The devel set hem on fuyre ! 

Then onswerde that gode womman, 
To hire lord the soudan. 

Sire, ich the biseche 
The beste red that ich con, 640 

Be him that this world won. 

To don as i the teche. 
Thou hast assayed goddes thyn, 
Wolte that ich asaye myn. 

Whether be better leche ? 
And, leove sire, trouwe on this. 
And leef on hym that strengor is. 

For doute of more wrecche. 

Then onswerde the soudan thor. 

In his herte he was ful sor, 650 

To seo that celli siht ; 
Dame, ichulle don after thi lore, 
Yif that I may seo bifore. 

That thi god beo of such miht. 



1 7° Ancient English 



With eny strengthe that i con, 
Yif he conforme hit after mon, 

With lyf and limes ariht, 
Mi false goddes ichul forsake. 
To Jhesu Crist thenne ichul me take, 

As ich am a trewe kniht. 660 



Glad was thenne that gode womman 
That hire lord the soudan 

Hath graunte'de hire preiyere. 
And that he wolde beo Cristene man, 
Heo thonketh him that this world bigan, 

And Marie his moder dere. 
Nou, lordinges, herkneth a muri pas 
Hou this child icristned was. 

And hath limes hoi and feere ; 
And hou the soudan of Damas 670 

Was icristnet in that cas, 

Lustneth and ye schul here. 



The ladi seide in that stounde, 
Sire, ye have in prisun bounde 

Mony a Cristene man ; 
Let seche bi lofte and bi grounde, 
Yif eny Cristene prisoun mighte be foundc, 

And bringe bifore me than : 
And ye schul seo er to morwe non 
What my god hymself con don 680 

More then thi maumetes can. 
The prisouns wer anon isought, 
A Cristene prest then forth was brouht, 

Be heste of that soudan. 



Adoun he fel uppon his kne, 
And scire he grette that ladi fre. 

And seide with fikynges sore ; 
And seide. Dame, iblesset ye be 
Of god that sit in trinitS, 

The tyme that ye weore bore. goo 



Metrical Romances. 171 



The ladi seide, Art thou a prest, 
Beleevest thou on Jhesu Crist, 

Const thou of Cristes lore ? 
The prest onswerde scone anon, 
In verba dei ich was on. 

Ten winter seththe and more. 

Fyve yer hit is agon, 
That i ne song masse non. 

Hit liketh me ful ille ; 
So long i wis hit is agon, 700 

I have ilived in prison of ston. 

With wrong and muchel unskille. 
The ladi seide, let beo thi fare 
Thou schalt be brought out of thi care, 

Yif thou const holde thi stille ; 
Thorw thin help and myn this stoundes. 
We schul make Cristene of hethene houndes ; 

God graunte yif hit be his wille. 

Heo seide, Icham the soudans wyf, 

Thou most do stille withouten stryf, 710 

Al in privit^ ; 
Her is a child selcouth discrif. 
Hit nath nouther lyme ne lyf, 

Ne eyen for to se. 
Holy water thou most make. 
And that wrecche thou most take. 

For the love of me ; 
And cristne hit withouten blame. 
And nempne hit in the fader name, 

That sitteth in trinity. 720 

On him is al myn help apliht. 
That ilke lord ful of miht. 

Of serwe he may me slake ; 
Yif hit were icristnet ariht. 
Hit scholde ha forme to seo with siht, 

With lyf and limes to wake. 
The ladi bad hire maydens anon. 
Out of hire chaumbre forte gon. 

For dreds of wriyying sake ; 



1 72 Ancient English 



The prest anon in that tyde, 730 

In feir vessel him bysyde, 
Holi water gon make. 

In mid-somer tyde this was done, 
In worschupe of Crist in trone. 

As i ow telle may ; 
The prest tok the child anon, 
And nempne hit to hote Jon, 

In worschipe of that day. 
Whon hit was cristned thorw grace, 
Hit hedde bothe lymes and face, 74.0 

And cryede with gret deray, 
Huyde and heuh, bon and fel. 
And everi lyme, soth to tel. 

In stori as ich ow say. 

Feirore child miht non be bore, 
Hit hedde never a lyme ilore, 

Wei schapen hit was withalle ; 
The prest no longer dwelled thore, 
But yeode and tolde the soudan fore. 

As he sat in his halle. 750 

The ladi lay in hire bed. 
With riche clothes bespred. 

Of golde and purpre palle. 
The chyld heo tok up as blyve, 
And thonked ur ladi with joyes fyve. 

The miracle that ther was falle. 

Lord, heo seide, i preye to the, 
Almighti god in trinitS, 

Nou yef me miht and space. 
That i mote that day ise 760 

That my lord icrisnet be. 

The soudan of Damace. 
The soudan com in that was so blak. 
The child heo schewed him also spak. 

With lyf and lymes and face. 
Heo seide, Mahoun ne Appolin, 
Were not worth the brustel of a swyn, 

Ayeynes my lordes grace. 




m 



m^ 



Hnctent lEnoUab fllbetncal 
IRomaneee* 

SELECTED AND PUBLISHED BT 

i 

JOSEPH RITSON, 

AND REVISED BY 

EDMUND GOLDSMID, F.R.H.S. 
Vol II. 



PART V. 



' Qua pn'scis memorata Caiombtu etque Cethcgis 
Nunc situs infermis f remit ac deserta vetustas" 

HORATIUS. 










E. ^ G. GOLDSMID. 

1885. 






Metrical Romances. 1 7 3 



Then seide the soudan, Lemmon myn, 

Icham nou glad wel afyn, 780 

Mai ne morfblithur be. 
Ye, sire, heo seide, be seint Katerin, 
Yif haluendel the child were thyn 

Then miht ye gladnes se. 
Dame, he seide, hou is that ? 
Nis hit not myn that ich biyat ? 

No, sire, i wis, seith heo, 
But thou weore cristne as hit is. 
Thou nast no part therof i wis, 

Nouther of child ne of me. 790 

But yif thou cristne wol let the make, 
More drede and more wrake 

The while thou art alyve ; 
For yif thou were a Cristene man, 
Then were hit thin that thou wan, 

Thi child and eke thi wyve : 
And whon thou art ded thou schalt wende 
To joye that lasteth withouten ende. 

May no mon hit discryve. 
Dame, seith the soudan, beo nou stille, 800 

Ichul ben at thin owne wille. 

And ben icristned blyve. 

Mi maumetrie ichul forsake. 
And cristendom ichul take, 

Withinne this thridde day : 
No more folk distruye i nil, 
I preye that prest to come me til 

To teche me Cristene lay. 
Priveliche that hit be. 
That no mon wite bote we thre, 810 

As ferforth as ye may ; 
Yif eny hit wist heigh or lowe, 
Icholde be brent and don of dowe, 

Yif I forsoke my lay. 



The prest anon com after than, 
And seide to the soudan. 
Sire, now icham here, 

Y 



174 Ancient English 



With al the miht that i con, 

To helpe make the a Cristene men. 

And godes lawe to lere. 820 

His hond uppon his breste he leide, 
In verba dei he swor and seide, 

To you bothe iferre ; 
Trewe and trusti ichul be 
To al that evere falleth for me, 

And helpe at my powere. 

A morwe, whon the prest awaketh, 
A feir vessel to him he taketh, 

With watur cler and colde ; 
Anon riht for the soudan sake, 830 

His preyers he gon to make, 

To him that Judas solde ; 
And to Marie his moder dere. 
That the soudan cristned were. 

That was so breme and bolde ; 
And yef him miht and space 
Thorw his vertu and his grace 

His cristendam wel to holde. 

A morwe, as sone as hit was day. 

The soudan in his bed lay, 840 

And up he gan to rise ; 
He clepede the prest, and gon to say, 
Dihte the redi that thou may 

That schal to my servyse. 
The prest onswerde anon tho, 
Ichave al redi that schal therto, 

Al redi in alle wyse. 
The soudan dihte him naked anon. 
In to the watur he con gon, 

And reseyvede the baptise. 850 

The preste hihte fire Cleophas, 

And nempnede so the soudan of Damas, 

After his owne name ; 
His colour that lodlich and blak was, 
Hit by com feir thorw godes gras. 

And cler withoute blame. 



Metrical R omances. 1 7 5 



Whon the soudan hedde therof a siht. 
That god was of so muche miht. 

His care was tornd to game ; 
Whon the prest hedde al iseid, 860 

And holy watur on hym leyd. 

To chaumbre thei wenten in same. 

He com ther the ladi lay, 
Certes, dame, he gon to say, 

Thi god is good and trewe. 
The ladi that ilke daye 
Wepte with hire eyen gray 

Unnethe hire lord heo knewe. 
But wel heo wuste in hire thouht 
On Mahoun he leevede nouht, 870 

Bi chaungynge of his hewe, 
And for that he was cristnet so 
Al awei was hire wo, 

Hire joye wox al newe. 

Sire, heo seide, fur charit'e. 
Send this prest in privitS, 

To my fader the kyng. 
And bide him for the love of me, 
That he come hider to the. 

With al that he may bring : 880 

And whon that he is hider icome. 
He cristene the lond al and some 

Bothe olde and ying. 
And hose nil not cristned be 
Hong hem heighe uppon a tre, 

Withouten eny dwellyng. 

The soudan tok the prest bi the honde. 
And bad him go and nothing wonde. 

To the kyng of Tars ful yare, 
"And do him to understonde, 890 

That icham thorw godes sonde 

Ibrouht al out of care. 
Bid him com hider with his ost, 
Priveliche withouten host. 

For no thyng that he ne spare." 



176 Ancient English 



Forth the prest is iwent, 
To don the lordes comaundement, 
To Tars then is he fare. 

Forth wente sir Cleophas, 

To the court thorw godes gras, 900 

Withouten eny dwellyng, 
Tolde the kyng al the cas ; 
Hou the child ded-boren was, 

A misforchapen thing ; 
And thorw the preyere of his wyf 
Hit hedde bothe lyme and lyf, 

In the watur of his cristenyng ; 
And hou the proude soudan 
Was bicome a Cristene man, 

Thorw miht of hevene kyng. 910 

He radde the lettres that he brouht. 
In the lettre hit was iwrouht. 

As ich ou telle may. 
He badde hym come and lette nouht, 
With al the pouwer that he mouht, 

Uppon a serteyn day. 
" Priveliche with thin ost. 
Thou scholdest come withoute host. 

And serche uche cuntray. 
And hose wole not cristnet be 920 

Scholde be honged on a tre, 

Withouten eny delay." 

A gladdor mon mighte not ben, 

He clepte his barouns and his qwen. 

And tolde hem in his sawe. 
The soudan, that stout and kene, 
Cristnet was withouten wene. 

And leevede on Cristes lawe. 
And to me hath isent his sonde. 
He wol cristene al his londe, 030 

Yif he mihte wel fawe : 
He nil not come to cristenyng, 
Weore he never so heigh lordyng. 

He scholde be to-drawe. 



Metrical Romances. \'jj 



Therfore, lordynges, out-riht, 
Duik, erl, baroun, and kniht. 

Let yor folk out beode, 
And whon that ye beth redi diht. 
With helm on hed and brunye briht. 

Help me wel at neode. 9^0 

The kyng of Tars, that ilke tyde, 
Sente aboute bi uche a syde. 

To knihtes douhti in dede ; 
The kyng dihte him for to wende, 
With sixti thousend knihtes hende, 

This was a feir felawrede. 

Forth he went, withouten let, 
The same day that he hedde set, 

To the soudan wel yare ; 
Whon thei were togeder imet, pjo 

A muri gretyng ther was gret, 

Of lordes that ther ware. 
A semely siht was to se 
The ladi falde doun on kne 

Bifore hire fader thare ; 
Ther was joye, pite also, 
Whon heo tolde of weole and wo. 

Of auntres that weore fare. 

The soudan ther he sat in halle. 

He clepede his knihtes biforen him alle, 960 

And al his oune meyni, 
Bi heore name he gan him calle, 
Lordynges, whatsoever bifalle, 

Icristned ye schul be. 
For ichave Mahoun forsake, 
To Jhesu Crist ich have me take. 

And sertes so schul be ; 
And hose wol not so don. 
He schal ben honged swithe son. 

Be him that dyyed on^tre. 970 

Whon the soudan hedde thus told, 
Ther was mony a Sarazin bold. 
That with the soudan were. 



178 Ancient English 



Summe seide that thei wolde, 
And summe seide that thei nolde. 

Be cristened in none manere. 
And hose wolde here maumetes forsake, 
Cristene men let hem take, 

And weore hem lef and dere ; 
And ho that nolde do bi heore red, 980 

Cristen men tak of heore hed. 

Paste bi the swere. 

The soudan had in his prison riht, 
Thritti thousend prisons apliht, 

Of mony an uncouth theode, 
Thei that were strong and wiht. 
He delyverede hem anon riht. 

And armed hem upon stede : 
And thei that mihte not so do. 
He yaf hem mete and drynk also, 990 

And al that hem was nede ; 
Men mihte seo in that court than 
Moni a blythe Cristene man. 

In stori as we rede. 

Anon riht in that ille tyde, 
Thorw out his lond on uche a syde, 

This word wel wyde sprong, 
Thei sent aboute fer and nerre 
Uppon the soudan fer to werre. 

And seiden for that wrong, 1000 

Bi Mahoun and Tirmagaunt, 
No men schal be heore warant, 

Weore thei never so stronge ; 
Bothe soudan and kyng. 
And al that hem was folewyng. 

The dethe thei scholde afonge. 

Fyf kynges were of heigh parayle, 
Uppon the soudan thei beode bataile. 

That strong and douhti were ; 
Hou the soudan hem gon assayle, loio 

And what thei hihte withoute fayle, 

Lustneth, and ye mouwe here. 



Metrical Romances. 1 7 9 



The kyng Kenedok and kyng Lesyas, 
Kyng Merkel, and kyng Cleomadas, 

Kyng Menbrok was heore fere, 
Theos fyf kynges forth bewent, 
Moni a mon thei slowe and schent, 

With strengthe and gret pouwere. 

Uppon a day the kyng and the soudan 

An hard batayle thei bigan, 1020 

Uppon this kynges fyve, 
Ayeynes o Cristene man, 
Ten hethene houndes wer ther than 

Of Sarazins stoute and stythe. 
Herkeneth now, bothe olde and ying, 
Hou the soudan and the kyng 

Among hem gunne to dryve. 
And hou the Sarazins that day 
Hopped hedles for heore pray, 

I schall ow tell as blyve. 1030 

The Cristene soudan that tyde 
Tok a spere and gon to ryde, 

Ayeyn Kenedok so kene, 
The kyng, that was so ful of pryde. 
His spere he lette to hym glyde, 

To wite withouten wene. 
So harde togidere thei riden thare, 
Both the speres that thei bare 

Borsten hem bitwene, 
The soudan drou his swerd ful good, 1040 

The kynges hed with the hod 

He strek of quit and clene. 

Kyng Lesyas of Taborie 
To the soudan hedde envye, 

For Kendok kyng was slawe ; 
He toke a spere, withoute lye, 
Ayeyn the soudan he gan hyghe. 

And wolde hym sle ful fawe. 
The kyng of Tars bitwene hem rod, 
And Lesyas streok he abod, 1050 

As i fynde in my sawe ; 



i8o Ancient English 



He smot him so the scheld 
That hit fley into the feld, 
Adoun he hath hym drawe. 

He leop to horse, and gon to ryde, 
And slough a doun bi uche a syde, 

Alle that he bifore him founde ; 
And alle that ever he hutte that tyde, 
Weore he never so proud in pryde, 

He yaf hem dethes wounde. 1060 

The kyng of Tars with his spere 
Thorw the bodi he gon hym bere, 

And falde him ded to grounde ; 
The Sarazins nomen up a cri, 
Now, Mahoun, ful of merci. 

Help now in this stounde ! 

Kyng Merkel was ful wo, 

To fihten anon he was ful thro, 

A spere in honde he hent. 
He priked his stede and let him go, 1070 

The kyng of Tars he thoughte to slo, 

Er he thennes went. 
He smot the kyng that ilke tydc 
Thorw his hauberk in the syde, 

That neih he hedde be schent ; 
The kyng of Tars out of his sadel fel, 
The blod out of his wounde wel, 

Mony mon hit bi ment. 

Whon the soudan saugh his blod. 

For wraththe he thoughte he was neih wod, 1080 

And gon to prike with mayn, 
He and al his felawrede 
Brought hem ayein uppon his stede. 

And halp hym up ayayn. 
Whon he was on his stede ibrouht, 
Al that he hutte and arauht. 

He clef hem in to brayn : 
Hyng Merkel ayeyn him went, 
And yaf hym such a nothcr dunt, 

That neih he hadde hym slavn. 1090 



Metrical Romances. 



Whon the soudan saugh that siht, 
Wod for wraththe he was aplight, 

And rod to the kyng Merkel, 
And smot him so on the scheld. 
That he fel in to the feld. 

Among that houndes fel : 
The kyng of Tars in that stounde 
Hath sypt of that hethene hounde, 

That er hedde foughte so wel ; 
He swor, be him that tholede wounde, lioo 

That hethene dogge schal to grounde, 

Be the help of seint Michel. 



I nul not dyyen in his dette, 
A strok on hym ichul bisette, 

Beo he never so bolde ; 
Ur ladi with an ave he grette, 
That no mpn scholde hym lette. 

The feendes strengthe to folde. 
He rod to hym anon riht, 
With a dunt of muche miht, 1 1 lo 

In stori as hit is tolde ; 
He hutte him on the helm on hiht. 
Into the brayn thorw bacinet briht, 

Thus is his servyse yolde. 



Kyng Membrok was in gret payn 
Whon he saugh thus his felawes slayn, 

And in the feld to drevet, 
He priked his hors with miht and mayn, 
And fleigh aweiward on that playn, 

For to huyden his heved. 1 1 zo 

The Cristene soudan in that tyde 
Aftur him he gan to ryde, 

For no thyng he ne leved, 
And smot him so fer al his scheld 
As he flegh in that feld, 

Quitliche of his heved. 



Ancient Englislt Metrical Romances. 



Thus the ladi with hire lore, 
Broughte hire frendes out of sore, 

Thorw Jhesu Cristes grace ; 
Al the while that thai weore thare, 
The joye that was among hem yare, 

No mon may telle the space. 
Whon thei weore out of world iwent, 
Bifore god omnipotent. 

Hem was diht a place. 
Now Jhesu, that is ful of miht, 
Graunt us alle in hevene liht 

To seo thi swete face ! 



1130 



E M A R E. 



The immediate French original of this ancient and excellent 
romance (here given from a unique copy in the Cotton manu- 
script, Caligula, A II.) is not known to be preserved, though so 
frequently referred to in the poem itself; for instance :■ 
"As i here synge in songe." — V. 2. 

The story, however, is related, at great length, though with some 
variations, and under different names, by the poet Gower, in the 
second book of his Gonfessk amantis, and, after him, by Chaucer, 
in his Man of lawes tale* The former, who makes the lady, 
whom he calls Constance, or Custen, daughter to Tiberius Constantyn, 
a fabulous Christian Emperor of Rome, refers to " the cronike," 
as his authority ; and may, therefore, seem to have been indebted 
to some work in the nature of the Gesta Romanorum, in which it is 
not to be now found. It, likewise, occurs (much altered, and very 
concisely abridged) in // Pecorone de ser Giovanni Florentine, said to 
have been composed in the year 1378 (see Gior. X. No. i); the 
author of which may seem to have been indebted to an MS. of 



* This imitation affords a convincing proof that Gower, a poet anterior to Chaucer, 
though many of the latter's pieces happen to appear with an earlier date than his 
own. He, in fact, expressly calls Chaucer, his "disciple, and poete," for that, "in 
the flowres of his youth," he had made for his sake " ditees and songes glade." 
There could not, however, be much difference in their ages ; as Chaucer was *'nowe 
in his daies olde;''and Gower himself, in 1396, both old and blind} though he 
survived Chaucer about two years, which short period he made use of to damn his 
own reputation to all eternity. 



1 84 Ancient English Metrical Romances. 

the National Library, Paris, (No. 8701, a paper-book written in 
'37o)> intitled Fabula romanensis de rege Francorum, cujus nomen 
reticetur, qui in filia sua adulterium et incestum committere voluit" After 
all, the primary source of this popular history is, most probably, to be 
found in a legendary life of a spurious Offa the first king of the 
West Angles, attributed to Matthew Paris (see Watts's Edition of 
his Historia major, &c. P. 965) : and, in support of this conjecture, 
it may be observed, that even Gower lays part of his scene in 
England. 




E M ARE. 



— »>-88^< — 

Jhesu, that ys kyng in trone. 

As thou shoope bothe sonne and mone, 

And all that shall dele and dyghte, 
Now lene us grace such dedes to done, 
In thy blys that we may wone, 

Men calle hit heven lyghte ; 
And thy moder, Mary, hevyn qwene, 
Bere our arunde so bytwene, 

That semely ys of syght. 
To thy sone that ys so fre, lo 

In heven with hym that we may be. 

That lord ys most of myght. 

Menstrelles, that walken fer and wyde. 
Her and ther in every a syde, 

In mony a dyverse londe, 
Sholde, at her begynnyng, 
Speke of that ryhtwes kyng, 

That made both see and sonde. 
Whoso wyll a stounde dwelle, 
Of mykyll myrght y may you telle, 20 

And mornyng ther amonge, 
Of a lady fayr and fre. 
Her name was called Eraare, 

As i here synge in songe. 

Her fadyr was an emperour. 
Of castell, and of ryche towre, 

Syr Artyus was hys nome ; 
He hadde bothe hallys and bowrys, 
Frythes fayr, forestes with flowrys, 

So gret a loriwas none. 30 

Weddedde he had a lady. 
That was both fayr and semely, 

Whyte as whales bone, 



i86 Ancient English 



Dame Erayne hette that emperes, 
She was full of love and goodnesse, 
So curtays lady was none. 

Syr Artyus was the best manne 
In the worlde that lyvede thanne. 

Both hardy and therto wyght, 
He was curtays in all thyng, 40 

Bo the to olde and to yynge, 

And well kowth dele and dyght. 
He hadde but on chyld in his lyve, 
Begeten on his weddedde wyfe, 

And that was fayr and bryght ; 
For sothe, as y may telle the, 
They called that chyld Emare, 

That semely was ol syght. 

When she was of her moder born, 

She was the fayrest creature borne, 50 

That yn the lond was thoo. 
The emperes, that fayr ladye. 
Fro her lord gan she dye. 

Or hyt kowthe speke or goo. 
The chyld, that was fayr and gent, 
To a lady was hyt sente. 

That men called Abro, 
She thawghth hit curtesye and thewe, 
Golde and sylke for to sewe, 

Amonge maydenes moo. 60 

Abro tawghte thys mayden small, 
Nortour that men usedenn in sale, 

Whyle she was in her bowre ; 
She was curtays in all thynge, 
Bothe to old and to yynge. 

And whythe as lylye flowre ; 
Of her hondes she was slye, 
All he loved that her sye, 

Wyth menske and mychel honour. 
At the meydene leve we, 70 

And at the lady fayr and fre ; 

And fpeke we of the emperour. 



Metrical Romances. 187 



The emperour, of gentyll blode, 
Was a curteys lorde and a gode, 

In all maner of thynge, 
Aftur when his wyf was dede. 
And ledde his lyf yn weddewede, 

And myche loved playnge. 
Sone aftur yn a whyle, 
The ryche kynge of Cesyle 80 

To the emperour gann wende, 
A ryche present wyth hym he browght, 
A cloth that was wordylye wroght, 

He wellcomed hym as the hende. 

Syr Tergaunte, that nobyll knyght, 
He presented the emperour ryght. 

And sette hym on hys kne, 
Wyth that cloth rychyly dyght, 
Full of stones ther hit was pyght, 

As thykke as hit myght be, 90 

Off topaze and rubyes, 
And other stones of myche prys, 

That semely wer to se, 
Of crapowtes and nakette, 
As thykke ar they sette, 

For sothe as y say the. 

The cloth was displayed sone. 
The emperoer lokede therupone. 

And myght hyt not se. 
For glysteryng of the ryche ston 100 

Redy syght had he non. 

And sayde. How may thys be ? 
The emperour sayde on hygh, 
Sertes thys ys a fayry,* 

Or ellys a vanytS. 

* The old queen in V: 446, says, 

"Sone, thys ys a /«»</«, 

In this wordy wede.'' 
Gower, in his legend of Comtance (the Emare of the present poem), makes Domilde, 
the king's mother, write, in the forged letter to her son, 
" Thy wife, which is oifahie. 
Of suche a childe delivered is. 
Fro kinde, which stante all amis." 



Ancient English 



The kyng of Cysyle answered than, 
So ryche a jwell ys ther non 
In all Crystyante. 

The amerayle dowghter of hethennes 
Made this cloth withouten lees, 

And wrowghte hit all with pride. 
And putreyed hyt with gret honour, 
Wyth ryche golde and asowr. 

And stones on ylke a syde ; 
And, as the story telles in honde, 
The stones that yn this cloth stonde 

Sowghte they wer full wyde. 
Seven wynter hit was yn makynge, 
Or hit was browght to endynge. 

In herte ys not to hyde. 

In that on korner made was 
Idoyne and Amadas,* 

With love that was so trewe, 



In another passage, of the same tale, he says, 

*' The god of hir hath made an ende, 
And fro this worldesyiiyr/e 
Hath taken hir into companie ;" 
but what he means by "this worldes fayrie," is not easy to surmise. 

* The story of these lovers is mentioned by Gower (Confesita amantis, fo. 133): 
** Myn ere with a good pitance 
Is fed of redinge of romance, 
Of Idoyne and of Amadas^ 
That whilome were in my cas.'' 
It is likewise, as Mr, Warton has observed, cited in the prologue to a collection of 
legends, called Cursor mundij an ancient poem, translated from the French : 
" Men lykyn jestis for to here. 

And romans rede in divers manere. 



Of king John, and of Isenbras, _ 

Of ydoine and Amas,^' 

Their names also occur in the o\A fabliau of Gautier d'Aupah (Fabliaux ou contcs, C 
335). The adventures of " !a belle Tdoyne" are contained, according to M. De Bute 
[Cata. de la bib. du D, de la Valliere: additions, 53), in the last part of the MS. 
Roman d'Aymeri de Narbonne : but this is a mistake j " Le viel [not La belle] 
Ydoine," being actually, in that romance, a king of Arabia : 
** Lejih Guyon su% le voir iert assis, 
Et fiert ydoine qui fu rois darrabiz." 



Metrical Romances. 189 



For they loveden hem wit honour, 
Portrayed they wer with trewe-love flour, 

Of stones bryght of hewe, 
Wyth carbunkull and safere, 
Kassydonys and onyx so clere, 

Sette in golde newe, 
Deamondes and rubyes, 130 

And other stones of mychyll pryse. 

And menstrellys with her gle. 

In that other corner was dyght, 
Trystram and Isowde* so bryght. 

That semely wer to se. 
And for they loved hem ryght, 
As full of stones ar they dyght. 

As thykke as they may be. 
Of topase and of rubyes, 
And other stones of myche pryse, 140 

That semely wer to se, 
Wyth crapawtes and nakette, 
Thykke of stones ar they sette. 

For sothe as y say the. 



" Prisfu Ydoine & Margarh li roys." 
** Le viex Ydoine du chief de son pais." 
" Le viel Ydoine apela en se croi." 
"Le roy Ydoine a pris biiptizement." 

(MSS. Reg. zo, D XI. 

Another instance has been already ment'oned of a knight's name in one romance 
being a lady's in another. 

* Two famous lovers ; the subject of many an ancient romance. A valuable 
fragment of one in French verse is in the possession of Francis Douce, Esquire ; and 
another, very curious, and possibly still older, but, unfortunately, imperfect, the 
composition, it is conjectured, of Thomas of Learmont, or of Ercildon, alias Rymer, 
a celebrated prophet, whether Scottish or English, is preserved in the Edinburgh 
manuscript, and will be speedily and ably published, by a gentleman every way 
qualified to do it justice. Of the prose romance are several editions, the first of 
which, with a date, was printed, at Paris, in 14S9, though there is another, possibly 
still more ancient. There is, likewise, a manuscript copy in the king's library in the 
Museum (20 D II); in an account of which, by the learned and accurate Mr. Piikertoa 
(Ancient Scottish Poems, P. Ixxvi), he has very ingeniously converted Iseult la blonde, the 
heroine, into a certain Seult Lahonde, the author of the romance. Another is in the 
possession of Mr. Douce. Their adventures arc, likewise, imperfectly related in Moit 
it Arthur. 

2 A 



igo Ancient English 



In the thrydde korner, with gret honour, 
Was Florys and dam Blawncheflour,' 

As love was hem betwene, 
For they loved wyth honour, 
Purtrayed they wer with trewe-love-flower, 

Wyth stones bryght and shene. 1 50 

Ther wer knyghtes and senatowres, 
Emerawdes of gret vertues, 

To wyte withouten wene, 
Deamondes and koralle, 
Perydotes and crystall, 

And gode garnettes bytwene. 

In the fowrthe korner was oon 
Of Babylone the sowdan sonne. 

The amerayles dowghtyr hym by. 
For his sake the cloth was wrowght, 160 

She loved hym in hert and thowght. 

As testymoyeth this storye. 
The fayr mayden her byforn 
Was portrayed an unykorn. 

With hys horn so hye, 
Flowres and bryddes on ylke a syde, 
With stones that wer sowght wyde, 

Stuffed wyth ymagerye. 

When the cloth to ende was wrowght, 
To the sowdan sone hit was browght, 170 

That semely was of syghte : 

* The romance of floris and Blanchefleur is one of the most ancient and popular 
in the French language. It is in verce, and copies are extant in the national library, 
Paris (Bib. Colber. 3128, and Bib. Coh. 733), and was in that of St. Germain-despres. 
(See B'b, uni'verselle Jes r<,mansy Fevricr, 1777, and Fabliaux ou antes. A, 254.). The 
French history in prose, (Paris, 155.^, and Lyons, 1571), is a translation from the 
Spanish, Flores y, Blancajior, Alcala, 1512, 4to. An English version was formerly in 
the Cotton Library (Vitellius, D. IH. destroyed by the fatal conflagration of 1731)) 
and is entered in the catalogue, under the title of ** Versus de amoribus F-orisii jwvenis 
Gf Blancheflorae puellce, lingua •veteri ^ngUcufia,*' An imperfect copy, however, is 
preserved in the Edinburgh manuscript. The adventures of Florio and Biancafiore, 
which form the principal subject of the Philocopo of Boccace, were famous long 
before the time of that author, as he himself imforms us. Floris and Blancaflor are 
mentioned as illustrious lovers by Matfres Eymengau de Bezers, a Languedocian poet, 
in his Bnt'iuti d'umor, daled in the year 12SS. See Tyrwhitt's Introductory litsuursc, 
... 25. 



Metrical Romances. 1 9 1 



" My fadyr was a nobyll man, 
Of the sowdan he hit wan, 

Wyth maystrye and myghth ; 
For gret love he yaf hyt me, 
I brynge hit the in specyalte, 

Thys cloth ys rychely dyght." 
He yaf hit the emperour, 
He receyved hit with gret honour, 

And thonkede hym fayr and ryght, 1 80 

The kyng of Cesyle dwelled ther 
As long as his wyll wer, 

With the emperour for to play, 
And when he wolde wende, 
He toke his leve at the hende. 

And wente forth on hys way. 
Now Remeneth this nobyll kyng. 
The emperour after his dowghter hadde longyng, 

To speke with that may, 
Messengeres forth he sent, 190 

Aftyr the mayde fayre and gent. 

That was bryght as someres day. 

Messengeres dyghte hem in hye, 
With myche myrthe and melodye. 

Forth gon they fare, 
Both by stretes and by stye. 
After that fayr lady. 

Was godely unther gare. 
Her norysse, that hyghte Abro, 
With her she goth forth also, 200 

And wer sette in a chare, 
To the emperour gan the go. 
He come ayeyn hem a myle or two, 

A fayr metyng was there. 

The mayden, whyte as lylye flour, 
Lyghte ayeyn her fadyr, the emperour. 

Two knyghtes gan her lede. 
Her fadyr, that was of gret renowne. 
That of golde wered the crowne, 

Lyghte of hys stede ; 210 



192 Ancient English 



When they wer bothe on her fete, 
He klypped her ond kyssed her swete, 

And bothe on fote they yede, 
They wer glad and made good chere, 
To the palys they yede in fere. 

In roraans as we rede. 



Then the lordes that wer grete, 
They wesh and seten doun* to mete,t 

And folk hem served swyde, 
The mayden, that was of sembelant swete, 220 

Byfore her owene fadur seta. 

The fayrest wommon on lyfe. 
That all his hert and alle his thowghth, 
Her to love was yn browght, 

He byhelde her ofte sythe. 
So he was anamored his thowghtcr tyll. 
With her he thowghth to worche his wyll, 

And wedde her to hys wyfe. 

And when the mete-whyle was doun. 

Into hys chamber he wente soun, 230 

And called his counseyle nere. 
He bad they shulde sone go and come. 
And gete leve of the pope of Rome, 

To wedde that mayden clere. 
Messengeres forth they wente. 
They durst not breke his commandement, 

And erles with hem yn sere, 
They wente to the courte of Rome, 
And browghte the popus bullus sone, 

To wedde his dowghter dere. 24.0 

Then was the emperour gladde and blythe. 
And lette shape a robe swythe, 
Of that cloth of golde, 

* Original reading : dou. 

\ It was an invariable custom, in ancient times, for all the guests to wash their 
hands before sitting down to table } many other instances whereof occur in these 
romances. 



Metrical Romances. igj 



And when hit was don her upon, 
She semed non erthely wommon, 

That marked was of molde. 
Then seyde the emperour so fre, 
Dowghtyr, y woll wedde the," 

Thow art so fresh to beholde. 
Then sayde that wordy unther wede, 250 

Nay, syr, god of heven hit forbede, 

That ever do so we shulde ! 



Yyf hit so betydde that ye me wedde, 
And we shulde play togedere in bedde, 

Bothe we were forlorne ; 
The worde shulde sprynge fer and wyde 
In all the worlde on every syde. 

The worde shulde be borne. 
Ye ben a lorde of gret pryce, 
Lorde, lette never suche sorow aryce, 260 

Take god you beforne ; 
That my fader shulde wedde me, 
God forbede that i hyt so se. 

That wered the crowne of thorne ! 



The emperour was ryght wrothe, 
And swore many a gret othe, 
That deed shulde she be ; 



* This incestuous proposal is unnoticed by Gower and Chaucer, who relate this 
part of the story in a different way : but Matthew Paris supposes the daughter of 
the petty-king of York, whom Offa finds in a forest, to give him this account of 
herself : " Hujus incomparabiUs pulcliritudinis slngularem eminent'lam^ pater admirans^ 
amatorio dcemone seJuctus, cepit earn incestu Ubidinoso concupisccrey et ad amorem illidtum 
scepe soUicltare, ipsam puellam minir, poUichis, blanditiis, atque muneribus addescentulce 
ttmptans emoUre ccmtantiam. Ilia autem operi nefario nullatenus adquiescens, 
pater itaque . . . praeceph earn In desertutn solitudinis remotes duci^ •vel potius trahi, et 
crudelisima morte condemnatam, bestUs ibidem derelinqui." As it may be objected that this 
Princess is banished into a forest, instead of being exposed upon the ocean, the 
legendary appears to have reserved the latter incident for the pretended life of another 
Offa, king of the Mercians, where we are told that a certain lady, cousin to 
Charlemagne, with a beauteous face, but no better than she should be, was, for a 
flagitious crime which she had committed, put into a boat, without tackling, and 
exposed to the casualties of the winds and waves ; but, landing on the British coast, 
she became, in a short time, the wife of this Offa. 



19+ j^ncient English 



He lette make a nobull boot, 
And dede her theryn god wote, 

In the robe of nobull ble. 270 

She moste have with her no spendyng, 
Nother mete ne drynke* [givyng], 

Bot shote her yn to the se ; 
Now the lady dwelled there, 
Wythowte anker or ore, 

And that was gret pyte. 

Ther come a wynd, y untherstonde. 
And blewe the boot fro the londe. 

Of her they lost the syght, 
The emperour hym bethowght, 280 

That he hadde all myswrowht. 

And was a sory knyghte. 
And as he stode yn studyynge, 
He fell down in sowenynge, 

To the yrthe was he dyght ; 
Gret lordes stode therby, 
And toke up t the emperour hastyly. 

And consorted hym fayr and ryght. 

When he of sownyng kovered was. 

Sore he wepte and sayde, Alas, 290 

For my dowhter dere ! 
Alas, that y was made man, 
Wrecched kaytyf that i hit am ! X 

The teres ronne by his lere. 
I wrawght ayeyn goddcs lay. 
To her that was so trewe of fay : 

Alas, why ner she here ! 

* It is very singular that tiiese lines should nearly occur again in V. 593 : 
" And lette her have no spendyng, 
For no mete J ny for drynke.'' 
Thus in the original j but as the word drynke by no means answers in rhyme to 
spendyng ; and either line is too short for the metre ; though the poem is sufficiently 
■correct, in every other place ; the editor has taken the liberty to insert, after drynke, 
in the first passage, (giving), and to alter it, in the other, to drynkynge; being reduced 
to the unpleasant alternative of either suffering both defects to remain, or hazarding 
these very unsatisfactory conjectures. 

f Original reading ; m. J Conjectural emend.ntion : that i am '. 



Metrical R omances . 195 



The teres lasshed out of his yyen, 
The grete lordes that hyt syyen, 

Wepte and made yll chere. 30Q 

Ther was nother olde ny yynge, 
That kowthe stynte of wepynge, 

For that comely unther kelle, 
Into shypys faste gan they tlirynge. 
For to seke that mayden yynge, 

That was so fayr of flesh and fell ; 
They her sowght over all yn the see. 
And myghte not fynde that lady frc, 

Ayeyn they come full snell. 
At the emperour now leve we, 310 

And of the lady yn the see, 

I shall begynne to tell. 

The ladye fleted forth alone, 

To god of heven she made her mone. 

And to hys modyr also ; 
She was dryven with wynde and rayn, 
With strong stormes her agayn, 

Of the water so bio. 
As y have herd menstrelles syng yn sawe. 
Hows ny lond rayghth she non knawe, 320 

Aferd she was to go. 
She was so dryven fro wawe to wawe, 
She hyd her hede and laye full lawe. 

For watyr she was full woo. 

Now this lady dwelled thore 
A good seven nyghth and more. 

As hit was goddys wylle. 
With carefull herte, and sykyng sore, 
Such sorow was here yarked yore, 

And ever lay she styll. 330 

She was dryven ynto a lond, 
Thorow the grace of goddes sond, 

That all thyng may fulfylle. 
She was on the sec so harde bestadde. 
For hunger and thurste almost madde, 

Woo worth wederes yll ! 



196 Ancient English 



She was drvyen into a lond, 

That hyghth Galys, y untherstond, 

That was a fayr cuntre, 
The kynges steward dwelled ther bysyde, 340 

In a kastell of mykyll pryde, 

Syr Kadore hyght he. 
Every day wolde he go, 
And take with hym a sqwyer or two, 

And play hym by the see ; 
On a tyme he toke the eyr. 
With two knyghtes gode and fayr. 

The wedur was lythe of le. 

A boot he fond by the brym. 

And a glysteryng theryn, 350 

Therof they had ferly, 
They went forth on the sond, 
To the boot i untherstond, 

And fond theryn that lady. 
She hadde so longe meteles be. 
That hym thowht dele to se, 

She was in poynt to dye. 
They askede her what was her name, 
She chaunged hit ther anone. 

And sayde she hette Egare. 360 

Syr Kadore hadde gret pyte. 
He toke up the lady of the see, 

And hom gan he lede ; 
She hadde so longe meteles be. 
She was wax lene as a tre. 

That wordy unther wede. 
Into hys castell when she came. 
Into a chawmbyr they her namm. 

And fayr they gann her fede, 
Wyth all delycyus mete and drynke, 370 

That they myghth hem on thynke, 

That was yn all that stede. 

When that lady, fayr efface. 
With mete and drynke kevered was, 
And had colour agayne. 



Metrical Romances. 197 



She tawghte hem to sewe and marke 
All maner of sylkyn werke. 

Of her they wer full fayne. 
She was curteys yn all thyng, 
Bothe to olde and to yynge, 380 

I say yow for certeyne ; 
She kowthe werke all maner thyng, 
That fell to emperour or to kyng, 

Erie, barown, or swayne. 

Syr Kadore lette make a feste. 
That was fayr and'honeste, 

Wyth hys lorde the kynge, 
Ther was myche menstralse, 
Trompus, tabors, and sawtre, 

Bothe harpe and fydyllyng. 390 

The lady, that was gentyll and small. 
In kurtuU alone served yn hall, 

Byfore that nobull kyng. 
The cloth upon her shone so bryghth. 
When she was theryn ydyghth, 

She semed non erdly thyng. 

The kyng loked her upon, 

So fayr a lady he sygh never non. 

His herte she hadde yn wolde. 
He was so anamered of that syghth, 400 

Of the mete non he myghth, 

But faste gan her beholde ; 
She was so fayr and gent, 
The kynges love on her was lent. 

In tale as hyt ys tolde ; 
And when the mete-whyle was doun, 
In to the chamber he wente soun. 

And called his barouns bolde. 

Fyrst he called syr Kadore, 

And other knyghtes that ther wore, 4I0 

Hastely come hym tyll, 
Dukes and erles, wyse of lore, 
Hastely come the kyng before. 

And askede what was his wyll. 

2 B 



1 98 Ancient English 



Then spakke the ryche yn ray. 
To syr Kadore gan he say, 

Wordes fayr and stylle : 
Syr, whenns ys that lovely may, 
That yn the halle served this day ? 

Tell me yyf hyt be thy wyll. 420 

Then sayde syr Kadore, Y untherstonde, 
Hyt ys an erles thowghter of ferre londe, 

That semely ys to tene, 
I sente after her, certeynlye, 
To teche my chylderen curtesye, 

In chambur wyth hem to bene. 
She ys the konnyngest wommon, 
I trowe that be yn Crystendom, 

Of werk that y have sene. 
Then sayde that ryche raye, 430 

I wyll have that fayr may, 

And wedde her to my quene. 

The nobull kyng, verament, 
After his modyr he sent. 

To wyte what she wolde say. 
They browght forth hastely 
That fayr mayde Egarye, 

She was bryghth as someres day. 
The cloth on her shon so bryght. 
When she was theryn dyght, 440 

And her self a gentell may. 
The olde qwene sayde anon, 
I sawe never wommon 

Halvendell so gay. 

The old quene spakke wordes unhende, 
And sayde, Sone, thys ys a fende, 

In this wordy wede. 
As thou lovest my blessyngc. 
Make thou never this weddyngc, 

Cryst hit de forbede ! 450 

Then spakke the ryche ray, 
Modyr, y wyll have this may. 

And forth gan her lede. 



Metrical Romances. 1 99 



The olde quene, for certayne, 
Turnede with ire hom agayne. 
And wolde not be at that dede. 

The kyng wedded that lady bryght, 
Grate purvyance ther was dyghth, 

In that semely sale, 
Grete lordes wer served aryght, 460 

Duke, erle, baron and knyghth, 

Both of grete and smale. 
Myche folke for sothe ther was. 
And thereto an huge prese. 

As hit ys tolde in tale, 
Ther was all maner thyng. 
That fell to a kynges weddyng. 

And mony a ryche menstrall. 
When the mangery was done, 
Grete lordes departed sone, 470 

That semely were to see. 
The kynge be laste with the qwene, 
Moch love was hem betwene. 

And also game and gle ; 
She was curteys and swete. 
Such a lady herde y never of yete ; 

They loved both with herte fre. 
The lady that was both meke and mylde, 
Conceyved and wente with chylde, 

As god wolde hit sholde be. 480 

The kyng of France, yn that tyme. 
Was besette with many a Sarezyne, 

And cumbered all in tene ; 
And sente after the kyng of Galys, 
And other lordys of myche prys, 

That semely were to sene. 
The kyng of Galys, in that tyde, 
Gedered men on every syde. 

In armour bryght and shene ; 
Then sayde the kyng to Syr Kadore, 490 

And other lordes that ther wore, 

Take good hede to my qwene. 



Ancient English 



The kyng of Fraunce spared none, 
But sent for hem everychone, 

Both kyng, knyghth, and clerke ; 
The stiward,* bylaft at home. 
To kepe the qwene whyte as fome. 

He com not at that werke. 
She wente with chylde, yn place, 
As longe as goddes wyll was, 500 

That semely unther serke ; 
Thyll ther was of her body 
A fayr chyld borne, and a godele, 

Hadde a dowbyll kynges marke. 

They hit crystened with grete honour, 
And called hym Segramour, 

Frely was that fode ; 
Then the steward syr Kadore, 
A nobull letter made he thore. 

And wrowghte hit all with godc. 510 

He wrowghte hit yn hyghynge. 
And sente hit to his lorde the kynge, 

That gentyll was of blode ; 
The messenger forth gan wende. 
And with the kynges moder gan lende. 

And yn to the castell he yode. 

He was resseyved rychely, 
And she hym askede hastyly, 

How the qwene hadde spedde ; 
"Madame, ther ys of her yborne 520 

A fayr man chylde, y tell you beforne. 

And she lyth yn her bedde." 
She yaf hym, for that tydynge, 
A robe and fowrty shylynge, 

And rychely hym cladde : 
She made hym dronken of ale and wyne ; 
And when she sawe that hit was tyme, 

Tho chambur she wole hym lede. 

And when hef was on slepe browght, 
The qwene that was of wykked thowght, 530 

Tho chambur gan she wcnde ; 



* Original reading : st-uiard. -j- Original reading : 



Metrical Romances. 201 



Hys letter she toke hym fro. 
In a fyre she brente hit do, 

Of werkes she was unhende. 
Another letter she made with evyll. 
And sayde the qwene had born a devyll, 

Durst no mon come her hende. 
Thre heddes hadde he there 
A lyon, a dragon, and a beere, 
A fowll feltred fende. 540 

On the morn, when hit was day. 
The messenger wente on his way, 

Bothe by stye and strete, 
In trwe story as y say, 
Tyll he come ther as the kynge laye, 

And speke wordes swete. 
He toke the kyng the letter yn honde. 
And he hit redde, y untherstonde. 

The teres down gan he lete. 
And as he stode yn redyng, 550 

Downe he fell yn sowenyng, 

For sorow his herte gan blede. 

Grete lordes that stonde hym by, 
Toke up the kyng hastely. 

In herte he was full woo ; 
Sore he grelte and sayde, Alas! 
That y ever man born was. 

That hit ever so shullde be ; 
Alas! that y was made a kynge, 
And sygh wedded the fayrest thyng 560 

That on erthe myght go ; 
That ever Jhesu hymself wolde sende, 
Such a fowle lothly fende. 

To come bytwene us too ! 

When he sawe hit myght no better be, 
Another letter then made he. 

And seled hit with his sele ; 
He commanded yn al thynge, 
To kepe well that lady yynge, 

Tyll she hadde her hele ; 570 



Ancient English 



Bothe gode men and ylle 
To serve her at her wylle, 

Bothe yn wo and wele : 
He toke this letter of his honde, 
And rode thorow the same londe, 

By the kynges modur castell. 

And then he dwelled ther all nyght, 
He was resseyved and rychely dyght, 

And wyste of no treson ; 
He made hym well at ese and fyne, 580 

Bothe of brede, ale, and wyne, 

And that berafte hym his reson. 
When he was on slepe browht, 
The false qwene his letter sowghte. 

In to the fyre she kaste hit downe ; 
Another letter she lette make, 
That men sholde the lady take. 

And lede her out of towne. 

And putte her ynto the see. 

In that robe of ryche ble, 590 

The lytyll chylde her wyth ; 
And lette her have no spendyng. 
For no mete, ny for drynkyng,* 

But lede her out of that kyth.t 
Upon payn of chylde and wyfe 
And also upon your owene lyfe 

Lette her have no gryth ; 
The messenger knew no gyle. 
But rode hom mony a myle, 

By forest and by fryth. 600 

And when the messenger come home. 
The steward toke the letter sone, 

And bygan to rede ; 
Sore he syght and sayde, alas ! 
Sertes this ys a fowle case. 

And a defull dede. 
And as he stode yn redyng. 
He fell downe yn swounynge. 

For sorow his hert gan blede ; 

• Original reading : drynke. \ Original reading ; kygh. 



Metrical Romances. 203 



Ther was nother olde ny yynge, 610 

That myghte forbere of wepynge, 
For that worthy unther wede. 

The lady herde gret dele yn halle, 
On the steward gan she calle, 

And sayde. What may this be 
Yyf any thyng be amys, 
Tell me what that hit ys. 

And lette not for me. 
Then sayde the steward verament, 
Lo her a letter my lorde hath sente, 620 

And therfore woos ys me : 
She toke the letter and bygan to rede, 
Then fonde she wryten all the dede 

How she moste ynto the see. 

Be stylle, syr, sayde the qwene, 
Lette syche morynge bene, 

For me have thou no kare ; 
Loke thou be not shente. 
But do my lordes commaundement, 

God forbede thou spare ; 630 

For he weddede so porely. 
On me a sympull lady, 

He ys ashamed sore ; 
Grete well my lord fro me. 
So gentyll of blode * yn Crystyante, 

Gete he never more. 

Then was ther sorow and myche woo. 
When the lady to shype shulde go, 

They wepte and wronge her honde ; t 
The lady that was meke and mylde, 640 

In her arme she bar her chylde 

And toke leve of the londe. 
When she wente ynto the see. 
In that robe of ryche ble, 

Men sowened on the sonde ; 
Sore they wepte, and sayde, Alas ! 
Certes this ys a wykked kase. 

Wo worth dedes wronge ! 

* Original reading : hhlde. t Original reading : hond. 



204 Ancient English 



The lady and the lytyll chylde,* 

Fleted forth on the water wylde, 650 

With full harde happes ; 
Her surkote that was large and wyde, 
Therwith her vysage she gan hyde, 

With the hynther lappes. 
She was aferde of the see, 
And layde her gruf upon a tre, 

The chylde to her pappes ; 
The wawes that were grete and strong, 
On the bote faste they thronge,t 

With mony unsemely rappes. 660 

And when the chyld gan to wepe, 
With sory hert she songe hit aslepe. 

And put the pappe yn his mowth. 
And sayde, Myghth y ones gete lend. 
Of the water that ys so stronge, 

By northe or by sowthe ! 
Wele owth y to warye the see, 
I have myche shame yn the. 

And ever she lay and growht ; 
Then she made her prayer, 670 

To Jhesu and his moder dere. 

In all that she kowthe. 

Now this lady dwelled thore 
A full sevene nyght and more. 

As hit was goddys wylle ; 
With karefull herte and sykyng sore, 
Such sorow was her yarked yore. 

And she lay full stylle. 
She was dryven toward Rome, 
Thorow the grace of god yn trone, 680 

That all thyng may fulfylle : 
On the see she was so harde bestadde 
For hunger and thurste allmoste madde. 

Wo worth chawnses ylle ! 

* This is the second time our heroine has been exposed at sea, in an open boat, and 
the first, with her little child. 
+ Original reading : thcngc. 



Metrical Romances. 205 



A marchaunte dwelled yn that cyt^, 
A ryche mon of gold and fee, 

Jurdan was hys name ; 
Eevery day wolde he. 
Go to playe hym by the see. 

The eyer for to tane. 690 

He wente forth yn that tyde, 
Walkynge by the see sythe, 

AUe hym selfe alone : 
A bote he fonde by the brymme, 
And a fayr lady therynne, 

That was ryght wo-bygone. 

The cloth on her shon so bryth 
He was aferde of that syght. 

For glysteryng of that wede ; 
And yn his herte he thowghth ryght, 700 

That she was non erdyly wyght ; 

He sawe never non shuch yn leede. 
He sayde, What hette ye, fayr ladye ? 
Lord, she sayde, y hette Egarye, 

That lye here yn drede : 
Up he toke that fayre ladye, 
And the yonge chylde her by, 

And hom he gan hem lede. 

When he come to his byggynge, 

He welcomed fayr that lady yynge, 710 

That was fayr and bryght ; 
And badde his wyf yn all thynge, 
Mete and drynke for to brynge 

To the lady ryght. 
What that she wyll crave. 
And her mowth wyll hit have, 

Loke hit be redy dyght : 
She hath so longe meteles be. 
That me thynketh great pyte, 

Conforte her yyf thou myght. 720 

Now the lady dwelles ther. 
With alle mete that gode were 
She hedde at her wylle : 
2 c 



2o6 Ancient English 



She was curteys yn all thj'ng, 
Bothe to olde and to yynge, 

Her loved bothe gode and ylle. 
The chylde bygan for to thryfe, 
He wax the fayrest chyld on lyfe 

Whyte as flour on hylle ; 
And she sewed* sylke werk yn bour, 730 

And tawghte her sone nortowre, 

But evyr she mornede stylle. 

When the chylde was seven yer olde, 
He was bothe wyse and bolde, 

And wele made of flesh and bone ; 
He was worthy unther wede, 
And ryght well kowthe prike a stede, 

So curtays a chylde was none. 
All men lovede Segramowre, 
Bothe yn halle and yn bowre, 740 

Whersoever he gan gone. 
Leve we at the lady clere of vyce, 
And speke of the kyng of Galys, 

Fro the sege when he come home. 

Now the sege broken ys, 

The kyng come home to Galys, 

With mykyll myrthe and pride ; 
Dukes and erles of ryche asyce, 
Barones and knyghtes of mykyll pryse, 

Come rydynge be hys syde. 750 

Syr Kodore his steward thanne, 
Ayeyn hym rode with mony a man. 

As faste as he myght ryde ; 
He tolde the kyng aventowres. 
Of his halles and his bowres, 

And of his londys wyde. 

The kyng sayde, By goddys name, 
Syr Kadore, thou art to blame 

For thy fyrst tellynge ; 
Thou sholdest fyrst have tolde me 760 

Of my lady Egare, 

I love most of all thyng, 



' Original reading : s/iemed. 



Metrical Romances. 207 



Then was the stewardes herte wo, 
And sayde, Lorde, why sayst thou so? 

Art not thou a trewe kynge ? 
Lo her the letter ye sente me, 
Yowr owene self the sothe may sc, 

I have don your byddynge. 

The kyng toke the letter to rede, 

And when he sawe that ylke dede, 770 

He wax all pale and wanne ; 
Sore he grette and sayde, Alas ! 
That ever born y was, 

Or ever was made manne ! 
Syr Kadore, so mot y the, 
Thys letter come never fro me, 

I tell the her anone. 
Bothe they wepte and yaf hem ylle ; 
Alas ! he sayde, saf goddys wylle, 

And both they* sowened than. 7^° 

Grete lordes stode by, 

And toke up the kyng hastyly. 

Of hem was grete pyte ; 
And when they both kevered were, 
The kyng toke hym the letter ther, 

Of the heddys thre. 
A lord, he sayde, be goddes grace, 
I sawe never this letter in place, 

Alas ! how may this be ? 
After the messenger ther they sentc, 790 

The kyng askede what way he wentc ; 

" Lord,t be your moder fre." 

Alas ! then sayde the kynge. 
Whether my moder was so unhendc, 

To make thys treson ; 
By my krowne she shall be brent, 
Withowten any other jugement. 

That thenketh me best reson. 
Grete lordes toke hem betwene, 
That they wolde exyle the qwene, 800 

And berefe her hyr renowne ; 



Original reading : the. t Original reading : Ur. 



Ancient English 



Thus they exiled the false qwene. 
And byrafte her hyr lyflothe clene, 
Castell, towre, and towne. 

When she was fled over the see fome, 
The nobuU kyng dwelled at hom, 

With full hevy chere ; 
With karcfull hert and drury mone, 
Sykynges made he many on, 

For Egarye the clere : 8io 

And when he sawe chylderen play, 
He wepte and sayde, Well awey ! 

For my sone so dere. 
Such lyf he lyved mony a day, 
That no mon hym stynte may, 

Fully seven yere. 

Tyll a thowght yn hys herte come. 
How his lady, whyte as fome, 

Was drowned for his sake : 
"Thorow the grace of gode yn tronc, 820 

I woll to the pope of Rome, 

My penans for to take." 
He lette ordeyne shypus fele. 
And fylled hem full of wordes wele, 

Hys men mery with to make ; 
Dolys he lette dyghth and dele, 
For to wynnen hym sowles hele. 

To the shyp he toke the gate. 

Shypmen, that wer so mykyll of price, 

Dyght her takull on ryche acyse, 830 

That was fayr and fre ; 
They drowgh up sayl, and leyd out ore. 
The wynde stode as her lust wore 

The wether was lythe on le. 
They sayled over the salt fome, 
Thorow the grace of god in trone. 

That moste ys of powsti ; 
To the cyt^ when they come, 
At the burgeys hous his yn he nome, 

Ther as woned Emarye. 840 



Metrical Romances. 209 



Emare called her sone, 
Hastely to here come, 

Wythoute ony lettynge ; 
And sayde, My dere sone so fre, 
Do a lytull aftur me. 

And thou shalt have my blessynge. 
To-morowe thou shall serve yn halle, 
In a kurtyll of ryche palle, 

Byfore this nobuU kyng : 
Loke sone so curteys thou be, 85° 

That no mon fynde chalange to the, 

In no manere thynge. 

When the kyng ys served of spycerye, 
Knele thou downe hastylye. 

And take his hond yn thyn ; 
And when thou hast so done, 
Take the kuppe of golde sone, 

And serve hym of the wyne : 
And what that he speketh to the. 
Cum anon and tell me, 860 

On goddes blessyng and myne. 
The chylde wente ynto the hall, 
Amonge the lordes grete and small, 
That lufsume were unther lyne. 

Then the lordes that wer grete, 
Wysh and wente to her mete, 

Menstrelles* browght yn the kowrs. 
The chylde hem served so curteysly, 
All hym loved that hym sy. 

And spake hym gret honowres. 870 

Then sayde all that loked hym upon. 
So curteys a chyld sawe they never non, 

In halle ny yn bowres. 
The kynge sayde to hym yn game, 
Swete sone, what ys thy name ? 

Lord, he seyd, y hyghth Segramowres. 



Then that nobull kyng 
Toke up a grete sykynge, 
For hys sone hyght so. 



* Original reading : Mentretles. 



Ancient English 



Certys, withowten lesynge, 880 

The teres out of his yen gan wryng, 

In herte he was full woo. 
Neverthelese he lette be. 
And loked on the chylde so fre, 

And mykell he lovede hym thoo. 
The kyng sayde to the burgeys anone, 
Swete syr, ys this thy sone ? 

The burgeys sayde, Yoo. 

Then the lordes, that were grete, 

Whesshen ayeyn aftyr mete, 890 

And then com spycerye, 
The chyld, that was of chere swete, 
On his kne downe he sete. 

And served hym curteyslye. 
The kynge called the burgeys hym tyll 
And sayde, Syr, yf hit be thy wyll, 

Yyf me this lytyll body ; 
I shall hym make lorde of town and towr, 
Of hye halles and of bowre. 

I love hym specyally. 900 

When he had served the kyng at wyllc, 
Fayr he wente his modyr tyll, 

And tellys her how hyt ys. 
"Soone when he shall to chambur wende. 
Take his hond at the grete ende. 

For he ys thy fadur, y wysse, 
And byd hym come speke with Emare, 
That changed her name to Egare, 

In the lond of Galys." 
The chylde wente ayeyn to halle, 910 

Amonge the grete lordes alle. 

And served on ryche asyse. 

When they wer well at cse afyne, 
Bothe of brede, ale, and wyne, 

They rose up more and myn ; 
When the kyng shulde to chambur wende. 
He toke his hond at the grete ende. 

And fayre he heipe hym yn ; 



Metrical Romances. 



And sayde, Syr, if your wyll be. 

Take me your honde, and go wilh me, 920 

For y am of yowr kynne. 
Ye shuU come speke with Emare, 
That changed her nome to Egare, 

That berys the whyte chynne. 

The kyng yn herte was full woo, 
When he herd mynge tho 

Of her that was his qwene ; 
And sayde, Sone, why sayest thou so ? 
Wherto umbraydest thou me of my wo : 

That may never bene. 930 

Nevertheles with hym he wente, 
Ayeyn hem come the lady gent, 

In the robe bryght and shene. 
He toke her yn his armes two. 
For joy they sowened both to. 

Such love was hem bytwene. 

A joyfull metyng was ther thore. 
Of that lady goodly unther-gore, 

Frely in armes to folde ; 
Lorde ! gladde was syr Kadore, 940 

And other lordes that ther wore, 

Semely to beholde. 
Of the lady that * was put yn the see, 
Thorow grace of god in trinite, 

Thar wes kevered of cares colde. 
Leve we at the lady whyte as flour. 
And speke we of her fadur the emperour, 

That fyrste the tale of ytolde. 

The emperour her fadyr then 

Wast woxen an olde man, 950 

And thowght on hys synne ; 
Of hys thowghtyr Emare, 
That was putte ynto the see. 

That was so bryght of skynne. 
He thowght that he wolde go, 
For his penance to the pope tho, 

And heven for to wynne ; 

* Original reading : nvat. f Original reading : Wax. 



Ancient English 



Messengeres he sente forth sone, 
And they come to the kowrt of Rome, 

To take her lordes inne. 960 

Emare prayde her lorde the kyng, 
Syr, abyde that lordys komyng, 

That ys so fayr and fre ; 
And, swete syr, yn all thyng, 
Aqweynte you with that lordyng, 

Hit ys worshyp to the. 
The kyng of Galys seyde than, 
So grete a lord ys ther nan * 

In all crystyante. 
" Now, swete syr, whatever betyde, 970 

Ayayn that grete lord ye ryde, 

And all thy knyghtys with the." 

Emare thawghte her sone yynge, 
Ayeyn the emperour komynge. 

How that he sholde done : 
Swete sone, yn all thyng. 
Be redy with my lord the kyng. 

And be my swete sone. 
When the emperour kysseth thy fadyr so fre, 
Loke yyf he wyll kysse the, 980 

Abowe the to hym sone ; 
Add bydde hym eorae speke with Emare, 
That was putte ynto the see, 

Hymself yaf the dome. 

Now kometh the emperour of pryse, 
Ayeyn hym rode the kyng of Galys, 

With full mykull pryde ; 
The chyld was worthy unther-wede, 
And satte upon a nobyll stede. 

By his fadyr syde : 990 

And, when he mette the emperour. 
He valed his hode with gret honour, 

And kyssed hym yn that tyde ; 
And other lordys of gret valowre. 
They also kessed Segramowre ; 

In herte ys not to hyde. 



* Original reading : non. 



Metrical Romances. 213 



The empcrours herte anamered gretlye 
Of the chylde that rode hym by, 

With so lovely chere. 
Segramowre he sayde his stede, 1 000 

Hys owene fadyr toke good hede, 

And other lordys that ther were. 
The chylde spake to the emperour, 
And sayde, Lord, for thyn honour. 

My worde that thou wyll here ; 
Ye shall come speke with Emare, 
That changede her name to Egare. 

That was thy thowghthur dere. 



The emperour wax all pale, 

And sayde, Sone, why umbraydest me of bale, loio 

And thou may se no bote ? 
" Syr, and ye wyll go with me, 
I shall the brynge with that lady fre, 

That ys lovesom on to loke." 
Neverthelesse with hym he wente, 
Ayeyn hym come that lady gent, 

Walkynge on her fote ; 
And the emperour alyghte the. 
And toke her yn his armes two. 

And clypte and kyssed her fote. loao 



Ther was a joyfull metynge 

Of the emperour and of the kynge. 

And also of Emare ; 
And so ther was of syr Segramour,* 
That aftyr was emperour, 

A full gode man was he. 
A grette feste ther was holde, 
Of erles and barones bolde, 

As testymonyeth thys story.- 



* Original reading ; Egrtjtnour. 
2 D 



Ancient English 



Thys ys on of Brytayne layes,* 103° 

That was used by olde dayes, 

* Many poems of high antiquity, composed by the Armorican bards, still remain 
and are frequently cited by Father Lobineau in his learned history of Basse-Bretagne. 
Chaucer, in his Frankekwes prokguCj has the following lines : — 

" Thise old gentil Bretons in hir dayes 
Of diverse aventures maden layes, 
Rimeyed in hir firste Breton tonge j 
Which layes with hir instruments they songe, 
Or elles redden hem for hir plesance, 
And on of hem have i in remembrance, — 
In yirmorikCf that called is Bretaigne, &c." 
See, too, what is said on this subject in the prologue to the romance of Sir Orp/muc. 
Both authors allude to the Armorican Bretons. 
Again, in The Erie of Tolous : — 

" A laye of Bretayne callyd hyt ys.'' 

The old English Ballad of Sir Go-wther (Royal MSS. 1 7 B XLIII) is said by the writer 
to have been taken out of one of the Layes of Britanye : and, in another place, he says 
The first Lay of Britanye. In the old French romance of Merlin, that prophet comes 
into the presence of King Arthur at a great feast, in the form of a beautiful blind 
harper, and harps "ung lai de Breton." (Fo. cix.) There is a curious and valuable 
collection of French lais, by Marie de France, most of which are asserted to have 
been made by the Bretons. See Warton's History of English Poetry, Dissertation I. and 
Tyrwhitt's Introductory Discourse, note on V, 10985. This set of old French tales 
of chivalry was written, as Warton pretends, by the bards of Bretagne. That it was 
the composition of Mary the poetess, is manifest : — 
'* Oe% seignurs ke dit Marie, 
Ki en son tens pas ne soblie:" 
whence it appears she was then dead ; the editor persisting in praising her, though she 
were defamed by persons of great consequence. In the lays themselves she speaks 
of herself in the first person : — 

" Marie ai nun, si sui de France," 

The Varia; Britanmrum fabuU, in the library of the university of Upsala, which Mr. 
Tyrwhitt took to be a translation of these lays into one of the northern languages, 
seems rather to be a copy of the original French. A metrical version of Lay It 
freine is extant in the Edinburgh manuscript, but still imperfect. In the prologue to 
this collection we are told — 

" Les contes ke io sai 'venais 
Dunt li Bretun unt fait les lais." 
This, rr a similar expression, occurs repeatedly ; and Eliduc is expressly called— 
** Un mut ancien lai Bretun." 
The scene, also, is frequently laid in Bretagne, which, in one place, is expressly 
called Bretaigne la menur ; and, in another, is ascertained by the mention of Nantes.* 



• On; of her lays, also, is intitlcd ( austic, by mistake for Eaustic, or E-austicr which in Errton 



Metrical Romances. 2 1 5 



Men callys playn the garye.* 
Jhesu, that settes yn thy trone, 
So graunte us with the to wone 

In thy pcrpetuall glorye ! 



She must, however, mean Gnat Britain, in the lay of Lanval, where she mentioi.s 
Kardod, and that of Tiuenet, where she speaks of Carwent (i.e. yema Silurum, now 
Chepstow), which she places upon the Dulas, instead of the fV^e. She, likewise, in 
others, mentions Suht-fVales, Toteneis, and Excestre. Another of her scenes is laid in 
Normendie. There are other lays of the same description, not attributed to Mary ; 
as the Lai de Gritelan {Fabliaux ou contes, A. 125), which is likewise a lai de Bretagne. 
In the same book is the extract of anotherlay of Bretagne entitled, Lai du Buisson d' efme." 
In the old prose romance of Merlin, that magician introduces himself before King 
Arthur under the appearance of a handsome, young, and blind minstrel, " ^ il harpoii^' 
says the story, " ung lay de Breton, par telle fa^on que cestoit melodie de louyr." (Vol. 
II. fo. 109.) The Roman de Tristan, an ancient manuscript already mentioned, has 
the following passage ; part of Tristan's address to Ysolt : — 
** Bom lais de harpe vus apris 
Lais Bretuns de nostre pais." 
This proves, what one might naturally enough have suspected, that the Bretagne or 
Bretuns spoken of in these lays are not the country and people of Armorica, but 
those of Great Britain ; Tristan being a native of Liones, an imaginary district, 
which adjoined to Cornwall, and, as Carey pretends, was devoured by the sea. 

Tristan himself was famous for his lays, some of which are preserved In his prose his- 
tory; and, upon the death of his hero, says one of the manuscripts, ^^ U rois Artus en fist ui 
\3.\,'qui fu appelle'\.& lai roial fif Lancelot en fit deus autres." (20 D. II.) ^In the 
Lai du huisson d'epine, of which an extract is given by Le Grand, [Fabliaux ou contes, 
D. 103), the author says, of these lays, "They have been chanted in Bretagne and 
elsewhere. They preserve the originals at Carlion ;" and, Carlion, or Caerleon, wzs 
one of Arthur's palaces in modern South Wales, as was also Caerivent already alluded 
to. So that it is far from being certain that, by the Breton lays of the French 
romances, are intended the productions of Armorica ; and, much more probable, 
that they generally, by Bretagne and Bretons, mean the island and the inhabitants of 
Great Britain, rendered famous upon the continent by the fabulous history of 
Geoffrey of Monmouth, It does not, at the same time, appear that any such lays 
are preserved in Wales any more than in Basse-Bretagne, if, in fact, they ever existed 
in either country. 

* Playing tlie garye would seem, from this passage, to mean the public recitation of 
such a story as the present, accompanied by correspondmg action, and the melody of 
the harp. We are told by Carevv, that the " Guary-miracle in English, a miracle- 
playe, is a kinde of interlude compiled in Cornish, out of some scripture history, 
with that grosseness which accompanied the Romans' vetus comedia. " For representing 
it," he adds, " they raise an earthen amphitheatre, in some open field, having the 
diameter of its enclosed plain some 40 or 50 foot. The country people flock from 
all sides, many miles off, to heare and see it : for they have therein devils and 
devices, to delight as well the eye as the eare ; the players conne not their parts 
without booke, but are prompted by one called the ordinary, who foUoweth at their 
back with the booke in his hand, and tellcth them softly what they must pronounce 
aloud." (Survey of Corn-wall, io. 71, b.) Some of these crdinalia, or interludes, in 
the Cornish language, are extant in manuscript. 



APPENDIX. 



HORN CHILDE AND MAIDEN 

R I M N I L D. 



Mi leve frende dere, 
Herken, and ye may here, 

And ye wil under-stonde, 
Storie? ye may lere 
Of our elders that were 

Whilom in this lond. 
Y wil you telle of kinges tuo, 
Hende Hatheolf was on of tho, 

That weld al Ingelond ; 
Fram Humber north than wait he, 
That was into the wan see, 

Into his Owen hond. 



He no hadde no childe, as ye may here, 
Bot a sone that was him dere. 

When that he was born. 
The king was glad, and of gode chore. 
He fent after frendes fer and nerc. 

And bad men calle him Horn. 
Eight knave childer he sought 
To Horn his sone bitaught, 

AUc were they frely born. 



Ancient English Metrical Romances. 2 1 7 



With him to play and lere to ride, 
Five yer in that ich tide, 
With baner him biforn. 

Hende, and ye me herken wold, 
The childer name as it is told 

Y wil you reken aright : 
Hathrof * and Tebaude, 
Athelston and Winwold, 

Garus, wise and wight, 30 

Wihard that was ever trewe, 
Seththen first him Horn knewe. 

To serve with al his might, 
Witard, and his brother Wikel, 
Sethen Horn fond hem ful fikel, 

Lesinges on him thai light. 

Arlaund, that al thewes couthe, 
Bothe bi north and bi southe. 

In herd is nought to hide. 
On hunting was him most couthe 40 

For to blowe an horn with mouthc 

And houndes ledes biside ; 
To harpe wele, and play at ches. 
And al gamen that used is. 

And mo was in that tide ; 
Hathrolf Arlaund bitaught, 
Horn and his children aught, 

To lern hem to ride. 

Out of Danmark coman here 

Opon Inglond for to were, 50 

With stout ost and unride. 
With yren hattes, scheld, and spere, 
Alle her pray to schip thai here. 

In Clifland bi Tese-side.t 
Schepe and nete to schip thai brought, 
And al that thai have mought. 

In herd is nought to hide ; 

» Hayidf, MS. but in p. 13, &c. Hatherof. 

t Now Cleveland, in the north-west corner of Yorkshire. 



2 1 8 Ancient English 



When Hatheolf it herd say. 
He busked bothe night and day, 

Oyain hem for to ride. 6o 

Within that ich fourtennight, 
Barouns fele, and mani a knight, 

Al were thai redi boun. 
With helme on heved, and brini bright, 
Alle were thai redi to fight. 

And rered gonfeynoun. 
On Alerton-more al they mett, 
Ther were her dayes sett, 

Failed hem no roum; 
Seth then to Clifland thai rade, 70 

Ther the Danis men abade, 

To fel the feye adoun. 

In a morning thai bigan. 
Of al that day thai no blan, 

That baleful werk to wirke, 
Sides thai made bio and wan, 
That er were white so fether on swan, 

Whiche gamen man aught irke. 
When that even bicam, 
The Danis men were al slan, 80 

It bigan to mirke. 
Whoso goth or rideth therbi, 
Yete may men see ther bones ly, 

Bi seynt Sibiles kirke. 

Hende Hatheolf, as y you say. 
Duelled ther the nighen day. 

The folk of him was fain ; 
Thai toke anon that ich pray, 
Schepe and nete that ther slain lay, 

And yaf it the folk oyain ; 90 

Armour and brini bright. 
He yaf to squier and to knight. 

To servaunt and to swayn ; 
Schipes he dede to lond drawe. 
And yaf to bond men on rawe. 

For her catel was slayn. 



Metrical Romances. 



Tho he seye that were wight, 

With helme on heved, and brini bright, 

Andwele couthe prike a stede, 
And tho that were doughti in fight, loo 

Sexti dubbed he ther to knight, 

And yaf hem riche mede. 
Sum baylis he made. 
And sum he yaf londes brade. 

His yiftes were nought guede ; 
And seth then he dede chirches make. 
To sing foi the dedes sake : 

God quite him his mede ! 

Setthen king Hatholf fore, 

For to hunten on Blakeowe-morc,* i lo 

With a rout unride. 
In frethe and in forest thore, 
To telle the dere strong it wore, 

That he felled that tide. 
Anon after, withouten lesing. 
He held a feste at Pikering, 

Ther his knightes schuld ride, 
And seththen to York, was nought to layn, 
Arlaunde com him oyain. 

And Horn his sone with pride. i 20 

King Hatheolf tok the children aught, 
That he had his sone bitaught. 

And gan to wepe anon ; 
Ich ave won mi fon with maught. 
That we oyein in batayl faught. 

And now thai ben al slon ; 
And your faders ben slawe thare. 
That of-thinketh mc ful sare, 

And other mani on. 
The lond that thai held of me 130 

Alle i give you here fre. 

Ward no kepe y non. 



* Blackmore, in the wapentake of Rydale, in the north-riding of Yorkshire, 
whence Helmsley obtains the addition of Blackamore. 



Ancient English 



With Horn mi son y wil ye be 
As your faders han ben witli me, 

And othes ye scliul iiim swere, 
That ye schal never fram him fle. 
For gold no silver, lond no se, 

Oyein outlondis here ; i^o 

To Horn his sone he hem bitoke. 
And dede hem swere opon the boke. 

Feute thai schuld him bere ; 
While that thai live might. 
With helme on heved, and brini bright, 

His londes for to were. 

Hende Hatheolf, that was so fre, 
Bot nighen moneth sojourned he. 

No lenge no hadde he pes ; 
Out of Yrlond com kinges thre, 150 

Her names can y telle the 

Wele, withouten les. 
Fer wele and Winwald wern therto, 
Malk an king was on of tho, 

Proude in ich a pres. 
At Westmer land stroyed thay, 
The word come on a Whisson day 

To king Hatheolf at his des. 

He bad the harpour leven his lay. 

For ons bihoveth another play, 160 

Buske armour and stede. 
He sent his sond night and day 
Al so fast as he may 

His folk to batayl bede. 
" Bid hem that thai com to me 
Al that hold her lond fre. 

Help now at this nede. 
Better manly to be slayn 
Than long to live in sorwe and pain 

Oyain our londis thede," j^o 

Thai busked hem wel hastily 
To com to the kinges cri 
With elleven night, 



Metrical Romances . 221 



That everiche strete and everi sty 
Glised ther thai riden by 

Of her brinis bright ; 
And seththen to Staynes-more thai rode,* 
The rout was bothe long and brod, 

To fel tho fay in fight ; 
Alle that night duelled thay 
Til a morwe that it was day, 

The barouns of gret might. 

The Irise oft was long and brade. 
On Staines-more ther thai rade. 

Thai yaf a crie for pride. 
Hende Hatheolf hem abade, 
Swiche meting was never made, 

With sorwe on ich aside. 
Right in a litel stounde 
Sexti thousand wer layd to grounde, 

In herd is nought to hide, 
King Hatheolf flough with his hond. 
That was comen out of Yrlond, 

Tuo kinges that tide. 

King Hatheolf was wel wo. 

For the Irise oft was mani and mo, 

With scheld and with spere. 
Ful long seththen man seyd so. 
When men schuld to batayl go. 

To men might on dere, 
Thei king Hatheolf faught fast 
King Malkan stiked attelast 

His stede that schuld him bere. 
Now schal men finde kinges fewe 
That in batail be so trewe 

His lond for to were. 

When king Hatheolf on fot stode 
The Yrise folk about him yode. 
As hondes do to bare, 

*' Between Brough and Bowes. 
2 E 



Ancient English 



Whom he hit opon the hode, 210 

Were he never knight so gode 

He yave a dint wel sare. 
He brought, in a litel stounde, 
Wele fif thousende to grounde, 

With his grimly gare ; 
The Yrise oft tok hem to red 
To ston that douhti knight to ded, 

Thai durst neighe him na mare. 

Gret diol it was to se 

Of hende Hatheolf that was so fre, 220 

Stones to him thai cast ; 
Thai brak him bothe legge and kne, 
Gret diol it was to se. 

He kneled attelast. 
King Malcan with wretthe out stert, 
And smote king Hatheolf to the hert, 

He held his wepen so fast, 
That king Malkan smot his arm atuo, 
Er he might gete his swerd him fro, 

For nede his hert to-brast. 230 

Tho king Malkan wan the priis, 
Oway brought he no mo y wis 

Of his men bot thretten, 
That wounded were in bak and side, 
Thai fleghie, and durst nought abide, 

Dathet who hem bimene. 
To Yrlond he com oyain, 
And left her fair folk al slain, 

Lieand on the grene. 
Tharf hem noither night no day, 240 

Make her ros thai wan the pray, 

Bot slowe the king y wene. 

An erl of Northumberland, 
He herd telle this titheand. 

He busked him to ride ; 
Alle he sesed in his hand 
Al that he to-forn him fand, 

Right to Humber-side. 



Metrical Romances. 223 



When that Arlaund herd sain 

That hende Hatheolf was slain 250 

He durst no lenge abide, 
Thai busked bothe night and day, 
As falst as thai may, 

Her hevedes for to hide. 

Fer southe in Inglond, 
Houlac king ther thai fond, 

With knightes stithe on stede. 
He toke him Horn bi the hand, 
When he hadde teld his titheand 

Mennes hertes might blede : 260 

"When hende Hatheolf was slan 
And his londes from him tan, 

And we ben flowe for drede. 
Of miself is me nought, 
But Horn his sone ichave the brought, 

Help now in this nede." 

Houlac king was wel hende, 

Ressaived hem nighen Herlaund the tende. 

Her maister for to be : 
" Mete and drink y schal hem fende, 270 

And ever when ich out wende 

Thai schal wende with me. 
Horn schal be me leve and dere." 
He bad Harlaund schuld him lerc. 

The right for to se. 
The lawes bothe eld and newe, 
All maner garaen end glewe. 

In bok thus rede we. 

Thus in boke as we rede 

Alle thai were in court to fede 280 

Sweteliche at lare, 
Alle were thai clothed in o wede, 
To ride on palfray, other on stede. 

Whether hem lever ware. 
Horn was bothe war and wise. 
At hunting oft he wan the priis. 

Loved he nothing mare ; 



2 24 Ancient English 



Harpe and romaunce he radde aright, 
Of al gle he hadde in sight 

That in lond ware. 290 

The word of Horn wide sprong 
Hold he was bothe michel and long, 

Within fiftene yere ; 
Ther was no knight in Inglond 
That might a dint stond of his hond, 

Neither fer no nere. 
Michel he was, and wele ymaked ; 
As white as milke he was naked, 

And ever o blithe chere ; 
Meke he was, and trewe so stiel 3°° 

Alle games he couthe wel. 

As ye may forward here. 

Houlac king, y wene, 
Hadde no child bi the quene, 

Bot a maid bright, 
Al thai seyd that hir sene 
Sche was a feir may, and a schene. 

And maiden Rimneld she hight. 
When sche herd Horn speke 
Might sche him nought foryete, 310 

Bi day no bi night. 
Loved never childer mare 
Bot Tristrem or Ysoud it ware. 

Who so rede aright. 

That miri maiden wald nought wond 
Dern love for to fond, 

Yif sche it might winne ; 
Forthi sche sent with hir sond 
For the speke with Arlond, 

For Horn schuld cum with him. 320 

And Arlaund him bithought, 
Yif he Horn with him brought, 

Lesinges schuld biginnc ; 
Forthi he lete Horn at hame. 
And toke Hatherof in his name. 

To maiden Rimneld [in]. 



Metrical R omances . 225 



The miri maiden, al so sone 

As Hatherof into chamber come, 

Sche wend that it wer Horn, 
A riche cheir was undon 
That seiven might sit theron, 3 3° 

In swiche craft ycorn ; 
A baudekjn theron was spred, 
Thider the maiden hadde hem led. 

To siten hir biforn, 
Frout and spices she hem bede. 
Wine to drink, wite and rede, 

Bothe of coppe and horn. 

Than a serjaunt sche bad ga, 
A gentil goshauk for to ta. 

Fair he was to flight, 340 

Therwith herten * gloves to, 
Swiche was the maner tho. 

And yaf Hatherof of his yift. 
Sche wende bi Hatherof Horn it wore 
That loved hunting nothing more. 

On him hir love was light, 
A les of grehoundes forth thai brought 
And he forsoke, and wald it nought, 

And seyd Hatherof he hight. 

" What ever thi name it be, 350 

Thou schalt have this houndes thre. 

That wele can take a dere ; 
And, Hatherof, for the love of me, 
Com to-morn, and Horn with the : '' 

He lay her hert ful nere : 
And Harlaund, that was hende, 
Toke his leve for to wende. 

With a blithe chere. 
And com anon on the morn. 
And brought with him hende Horn, 360 

As ye may forward here. 



* Buckskin. 



2 26 Ancient English 



The maiden hour was fair spred, 
Atired al witli riclie wedde, 

Sche liaylett them with winne ; 
The mirie maiden hir bithought 
In what maner that sche mought 

Trewe love for to ginne, 
Sche sett hir hem bituene, 
The maiden was bright and schene, 

And comen of kinges Icinne ; 370 

Anon hir selve hadde hem lede 
To sitten opon her owhen bedde, 

Arlaund, and Horn with him. 

Hendeliche sche to him spac, 
A poumgarnet ther sche brak, 

And spices dede sche calle ; 
Wine to drink, after that 
Sche lete fet forth a stede blac, 

Was covered al with palle. 
The stiropes were of silke wite, 380 

Bridel and sadel al was slike, 

And seyd, Horn, hende in halle, 
It was me told thou schult be knight, 

Y the yif here a stede light 
And a queyntise of palle. 

Horn, sche seyd, is thi name, 
An horn i schal yive the ane, 

A michel and unride, 
Al yvore is the bon, 
Sett with mani a riche ston, 390 

To bere bi thi side. 
The baudrike was of silk right. 
The maiden self it hadde ydight, 

Layd wyth gold for pride : 
" What that ever be with me, 
Horn, at thi wille schal it be. 

In herd is nought te hide." 

Than sche lete forth bring 
A swerd hongand bi a ring, 

To Horn sche it bitaught : j^qo 



Metrical Romances. 227 



" It is the make of Miming,* 
Of all swerdes it is king, 

And Weland it wrought. t 
Bitterfer the swerd hight, 
Better swerd bar never knight, 

Horn, to the ich it thought ; 
Is nought a knight in Inglond 
Schal sitten a dint of thine hond. 
Forsake thou it nought." 

Hendelich than thanked he 410 

The maiden of hir yift fre. 

And seyd, So god me spede, 
Rimnild, for the love of the, 
Y schal juste that thou schalt se 

Opon this ich stede. 
Horn, in that ich stounde, 
Yaf the maiden love wounde. 

So neighe hir hert it yede, 
And sche wel trewely hath him hight, 
Yif that he be dubbed knight, 420 

Hir maidenhod to mede. 

Within that ich fourtenight, 
Horn was dubbed to knight, 

And Hatherof, as i wene. 
And other mani that were light. 
Has Houlak king hadde hem hight, 

So were thai ful fiftene. 
A turnament the king lete crie, 
Thider com wel on heye 

Knightes that wer kene. 430 

Maiden Rimneld biheld the play, 
Hou Horn wan the priis that day. 

To wite and nought to wene. 

Houlac king yaf Horn leve 
In his bour for to acheve 
The maidens that were fre, 

* Mem'mg was a satyr, or silvan deity, in the forests of Lapland, who possessed a 
sword and bracelet of inestimable value, which Hoder, brother of ^dils king of 
Sweden, in vain endeavoured to wrest from him. See Saxo, V. 3, P. 40, where he is 
called Mimri/ig. It is, at the same time, Mimm'mg in Olaus Magnus, L. 3, C. Jz. 

\ An allusion to the legend of Weyland Smith. 



228 Ancient English 



Riche of kin and hondes sleye, 
Thai hadde frendes fer and neighe, 

He might avaunced be, 
And maiden Rimnild him bede a/^q 

That he schuld take non other rede 

No nother than chose he. 
For sche wel trewely hath him hight, 
Yif that sche live might. 

His leman wald sche be. 

Tebaud went biyond se. 

And Winwald, that was so fre. 

To leren hem to ride ; 
With the king of France duelled he, 
Mani time thai gat the gre* 150 

In turnament that tide. 
The king seighe that thai war wight, 
Bothe he dubbed hem to knight, 

With wel riche pride ; 
Wiif thai toke, and duelled thare, 
In Inglond com thai no mare, 

Her werdes for to bide. 

Gariis into Bretein went, 

And Athelston with him was lent, 

To an erl so fre ; j.60 

At justes, and at turnament, 
Whiderward so thai went. 

Ever thai gat the gre ; 
Ane th' erl hem bothe knightes made. 
And yaf hem londes wide and brade 

With him for to be : 
Thus thai duelled ther in pes, 
While that Cristes wil wes ; 

In boke so rede we. 

Houlac king yaf gold and fe .-jq 

To hem, that thai might the better be. 
And bad thai schuld wive ; 



The degree, or prize. 



Metrical Romances. 229 



Hatherof, a knight fre, 

And, Horn, he seyd, i love the, 

Man most olive : 
And wiard, treuly, he hath hight. 
That he schal dubbed be to knight, 

At another sithe ; 
Wigard and Wikel hem bithought 
How thai Horn bitray mought, 480 

God lete hem never thrive ! 

On a day, as Houlak king 
Schuld wende on his playing, 

To late his haukes fleye, 
Horn than, withouten lesing, 
Bilaft at hom for blode-leteing, 

Al for a malady e. 
Wikard by the king rade, 
Wikel that lesing made, 

Horn gan thai wray, 490 

And seyd. Sir, y seighe yisterday 
Hou Horn by thi douhter lay, 

Traitours bothe be thai. 

The king leved that thai sede, 
Forthi yaf sche him the stede, 

Lesing it is nought ; 
He went hom as he wern wode 
Into boure anon he yode. 

And maiden Rimnild he fought. 
He bete hir so that sche gan blede, ;oo 

The maidens sleighe oway for drede, 

Thai durst help hir nought ; 
Giltles sche was of that dede, 
Horn hadde nought hir maidenhcdc, 

Bot in word and thought. 

Houlac his swerd hath tan. 
And seyd Horn schuld be slan, 

For wretthe he wald wede ; 
" He hath me don michel schame, 
Y wende wele have sufFred nane 510 

For mi gode dede." 



230 Ancient English 

Knightes com the king biforn, 
Alle prayd thai for Horn, 

No might ther non spede ; 
The king into his chaunbur is gon, 
And schet himself therin alon, 

Til his wietthe overyede. 

Thei that Horn was sore adrad, 
Into boure he was ladde. 

The maiden for to se, 520 

He fond hir liggeand on hir bedde, 
Mouthe and nose al for-bled ; 

" This hastow for me." 
" Bi god of heven that me bought, 
Of mi selve is me nought, 

Way is me for the. 
Fals men hath on ous leyd, 
And to mi fader ous biwraid, 

Y drede he flemes the. 

Bot, Horn, yif it so schal bitide 530 

That thou schalt out of lond ride. 

And flemed schaltow be. 
This seven winter y schal abide. 
Mi maidenhed to hele and hide, 

For the love of the ; 
Thei an emperour com; 
> King, other kinges sone. 

For to wedde me, 
Of no love ne schal he spede, 
That y ne schal kepe mi maidenhede, 540 

So help me god to the. 

Horn, to morwe in the morning 
Thou schalt fare on hunting, 

To take the wild ro, 
Yif god the spede an hunting, 
Loke thou bring it bifor the king. 

What so thou may do, 
As he sittes at his des, 
Yserved of the first mes, 

Haughtel the now so, pcq 



Metrical Romances. 231 



Fare as thou wist nought, 
And he schal telle the al his thought, 
Er thou fram that bord go." 

A morwen Horn to hunting is gan, 
To take the wilde with the tarn. 

In the morwening ; 
Fine hertes hath he tan, 
Bi midday brought hem ham, 

Bifor Houlak king. 
The king seyd. It is for nought, 560 

Traitour, thou hast tresoun wrought, 

To-morwe yf y the finde, 
Bi mi croun thou schalt be slawe, 
With wilde hors al to-drawe. 

And sethen on galwes hing. 

To Rimneld he com withouten lesing. 
And sche bitaught him a ring 

The vertu wele sche knewe : 
" Loke thou forsake it for no thing. 
It schal ben our tokening, 57° 

The ston it is wel trewc. 
When the ston wexeth wan. 
Than chaungeth the thought of thi leman, 

Take then a newe ; 
When the ston wexeth rede, 
Than have y lorn mi maidenhede, 

Oyaines the untrewe. 

Horn seyd, In thine erber is a tre, 
Ther under is a wel fre, 

Ygrowen al with yve, 5 8° 

Riranild, for the love of me, 
Everi day that thou ther be, 

To se the water lithe, 
And, when thou sest mi schadu thare. 
Than trowe thou me na mare. 

Than am y bon to wive. 
And, while thou sest mi schadu nought. 
Than chaungeth never mi thought, 

For no woman olive. 



232 Jndtnt English 



Houlac king wald nere wede, 59° 

There he sat opon his sede, 

And seyd, Traitour, fle ! 
Horn tolc his leve, and yede, 
With him he toke his gode stede, 

And grehoundes bot three ; 
And alle his harneys, lasse and mare, 
Hatherof durst nought with him fare, 

So wroth the king was he. 
Maidens in the boure can crie, 
And seyd Rimnild wald dye, 600 

" Now swoneth that fre." 

When Horn com fer out of that fight. 
He seyde, Godebounde he hight, 

When he gan ani mete ; 
Wiard rode after, day and night, 
Al so fast as he might, 

Horn for to seke. 
Of Godebounde herd he speke, 
Horn no might he never gete, 

Bi way, no bi strete. 610 

Wiard rode soutlie, and Horn rode west. 
To Wales Horn come attelest, 

Wei long er thai so mete. 

Thurth a forest as he schuld fare 
An armed knight mett he thare. 

And bad Horn schuld abide. 
To yeld his harneise lesse and mare. 
Other juste, whether him lever ware. 

The lawe is nought to hide ; 
And Horn of justing was ful fain, 620 

And seyd to the knight oyain, 

Ful leve me were to ride. 
The knight toke a schaft in hand 
And Horn wele under fand 

That he couthe ride. 

Horn tok on al so long 
A ful tough and to so strong, 
OyaJnes him that tide ; 



Metrical Romances. 



233 



The knightes scheld he cleve atuo, 

And of his plates he brae tho, 630 

And frussed alle his side. 
Out of his sadel he bar him than. 
He brae his arm, and his schulder ban, 

He hadde a ful unride.* 

When he of swoning bicam 
He asked after Homes nam, 

Whider he wald gang : 
" In Walis lond is ther nan 
Man ymade of flesche no ban, 

Oyain the may stand." 640 

Horn answered anon, 
" Godebounde is mi nam, 

I cham comen to fand. 
For to win gold and fe, 
In servise with your king to be, 

That lord is of this land." 

" Our kinges name is Elidan, 
In al Wales is ther nan 

So strong a man as he ; 
While the seven days began 650 

Everich day with suhdri man 

Justing bedes he the. 
The eighten day, be thou bold, 
Yif thou the seven days mai hold. 

The king than schaltow se 
Com rideand on a stede broun, 
With a soket o feloun. 

For to win the grc." 

Horn seyd, withouten lesing, 

For to speke with the king, 660 

For nothing wil y bide. 
The knight teld him na mare 
The king at Snowedoun he fond thare, 

Sir Elydan that tyde. 

Either this or the preceding stanza is defective by the omission of three lines. 



J 34 Ancient English 



He justed al that seven night 
Everi day with sundri knight, 

He gat the fairest pride ; 
The eighten day with Elidan, 
And wan her stedes everilk an, 

In herd is nought to hide. 670 

He smot the king opon the scheld, 
Of his hors he made him held, 

And feld him to the grounde, 
Swiche on hadde he founde seld. 
That so hadde feld him in the feld, 

Bi for that ich stounde. 
The king asked him what he hight, 
And he him answerd anon right, 

My name is Godebounde. 
" Y wil the yif gold and fe, 680 

Yif that thou wil duelle with me, 

Bi yere a thousend pounde." 

Messangers com out of Yrland, 
And toke the king a letter in hand. 

And bad he schuld rede. 
Fro a king, that men dede wrong, 
His owhen sone ich understond. 

That axed help at nede. 
He lete write a letter oyain. 
He schuld han help is nought to layn, 690 

With knightes stithe on stede. 
Horn to batayl was ful boun, 
And folwed the messangers out of toun, 

Into Irlond thai him lede. 

Hem com an haven wele to hand. 
That Yolkil is cleped in Irland, 

The court was ther biside. 
Finlawe king ther thai fande, 
For to here titheande 

Oyain hem gan ride. 700 

The letter told that he brought. 
Help schuld him faile nought 

Oyaines thilke tide. 



Metrical Romances. 235 



King Finlak dede to Malkan say. 
Whether he wold bi night or day. 
The bataile wald he bide. 

The kinges sones riden bathe. 

To hayles Horn when thai him sathe, 

And welcomed him, that fre, 
Anon thai gun to strive rathe, 7'° 

Whether of hem him schuld have 

To duelle in her mein^. 
Horn answerd hem than as hende, 
And seyd to hem. My leve frende. 

The king than wald y se. 
And afterward y wille you telle, 
Where me levest is to duelle. 

And semlyest to me. 

The messanger told Homes dede, 

Hou he hadde ywon the stede, 7^° 

And hou he seighe him ride ; 
Sir, mightestow hold him to thi nede, 
King Malkan tharf the nought drede, 

Batayle might thou bide. 
Hour king boden him gold and fe. 
With that he wil with him be. 

At this ich nede ; 
And Horn ful trewely hath him hight. 
For to stond in stede of knight, 

In herd is nought to hide. 73° 

In Yrlond was ther nan. 

That alle thai be to Malkan gan. 

So michel was his pouste, 
Bot Finlak king him alan, 
Has the batayl undertan, 

Yif Crist wil that it be. 
King Malkan dede bede out here 
Opon the king Finlak towere. 

Now than schal we se, 
Yif he wil fight he schal be slan, 740 

Yif he wil bide he schal be tan, 

Y trowe best he wil fle. 



236 Ancient English 



Bot thre woukes were ther sett, 
That alle this folk schall be mett 

And batayle schal ther be ; 
The Walis king hadde gret lett, 
With windes and with waters bett, 

Sir Elidan the fre. 
He no might into Irlond come, 
For to helpen his sone, 750 

For stormes on the se. 
King Finlak seyd. Is nought to hide. 
This batayl dar y nought abide. 

Mi rede is tan to fle : 

And than was Horn as fain o fight. 
As is the soulc of the light 

When it ginneth dawe : 
" Sir king, for to held thi right, 
Y rede thou bede riche yift, 

The folk wil to the drawe. 760 

Geder to the folk that thou may. 
And baldliche hold thi day, 

Batail schal we schawe, 
To fle me think it is gret schame, 
Ar dintes be smiten or ani man stan, 

For drede of wordes awe." 

Tne kinges sones wer knightes bold. 
And seyd thai wald the batail hold. 

Her lives for to lete. 
Finlak king, thei he wer aid, 770 

Bletheli he seyd fight he wald, 

To hold that he bihete. 
Thus thai riden out of toun. 
With spere oloft and gomfaynoun, 

Malkan king to mete. 
With speres scharp, and swerdes gode. 
Thai slough mani a frely fode. 

So grimly gun thai grete. 

Ther Horn seighe the niest thrang, 
In he rides hem amang, ^g^ 

And lays on wel gode won ; 



Metrical Romances. 



237 



It was no man of Yrland 
Might stond a dint of his hand, 
At ich stroke he slough on.* 

Maiden and wiif gret sorwe gan make, 
For the kinges sones sake, 

That were apoint to dye. 
Finlac king oyaines him come. 
And his armes of him nome. 

The blode ran over his eighe. 790 

He cleped his douhter Acula, 
And bad sche schuld a plaster ta. 

Of woundes was sche sleighe. 

The maiden tast t Homes wounde. 
The kinges douhter, in that stounde, 

Of him hye is ful fain : 
"Thou schalt be sone hole and founde, 
Hastow Malkan brought to grounde ?" 

He seyd, Ya, oyain. 
King Malkan was mi faders ban, 800 

And now for sothe ich have him slan. 

The sothe for to sain. 
Mi fader swerd y wan to day, 
Y kepe it while y live may. 

The name is Blavain. 

Thai birid the folk that wer slan, 
And her armour thai ladde ham. 

With hors white and broun ; 
Finlac king him bithought, 
Hou he Horn yeld mought, 810 

To yif him his warisoun ; 
He tok Malkan kinges lond. 
And sesed it into Hornnes hond, 

Bothe tour and toun. 
Erles, barouns, everichon, 
In Irlond was ther non, 

That ' he ' no com to his somoun. 

* A leaf, at least, appears to be here wanting. It would seem that there had been 
a battle. In which Horn was wounded, and the king's sons were taken prisoners. 
■f- Tasteed, touch'd, or felt, a Gallicism. 

2 G 



238 Ancient English 



The kinges doubter, Acula, 
Loved hende Horn sa, 

Sche durst it nought kithe ; 820 

Whether sche seighe him ride or go, 
Hir thought hir hert brak atuo. 

That sche no spac with that blithe. 
On a day sche made her seke, 
Horn com, and with hir speke, 

Sche might no lenger mithe ; 
To him spac that maiden fre, 
And seyd, Horn, y love the, 

Man most olive. 

Over al Horn the priis him wan, 830 

He seyd it was for o wiman. 

That was him leve and dere j 
Acula wende for than 
That Horn hir loved, and most gode an 

Of ani woman that were. 
Of another was al his thought. 
Maiden Rimnild foryat he nought, 

Sche lay his hert ful nere ; 
The ring to schewen hath he tan. 
The hewe was chaunged of the stan, 840 

Forgon is seven yere. 

Horn wald no lenger abide. 
He busked him for to ride, 

And gedred folk everi whare ; 
An hundred knightes by his side. 
With stedes fele, and michel pride. 

Her schippes were ful yare. 
Thai sayled over the flode so gray, 
In Inglond arived were thay, 

Ther hem levest ware ; 850 

Under a wode ther thai gan lende, 
Horn seighe a begger wende. 

And after he is fare. 



Horn fast after him gan ride. 
And bad the begger schuld abide, 
For to here his speche ; 



Metrical Romances. 



'39 



The begger answerd in that tide, 
Vilaine, canestow nought ride ? 
Fairer thou might me grete. 
Haddestow cleped me gode man, 860 

Y wold have teld the wennes i cam. 
And whom y go to feche ; 

Horn to seke have i gon, 
Thurthout londes mani on. 
And ay schal while we mete : 

And now be min robes riven. 
And me no was no nother yevcn, 
Of alle this seven yere ; 

Y go to seke after him ay. 

And thus have done mani a day, 870 

Til that we mete yfere. 
To day is Moging the king 
With Rimnild at spouseing. 

The kinges douhter dere ; 
Many sides schuld be bibled 
Er he bring hir to his bed 

Yif Horn in lond were. 

Wiard schaltow calle me, 
Gentil man, yif thou be fre, 

Tel me thi name. 880 

Thi knave wald y fain be 
That fair fest forto se. 

Me thenke thatow hast nane. 
Horn answerd him oyain, 
Ich hat Horn is nought to Iain, 

And elles were me schame ; 
Bot, yif ich held that thou hast seyd, 
Er that thai ben in bed layd. 

Five thousende schal be slain. 

Wiard, oyain schaltow ride 890 

To mi folk, and there abide, 

Have here mi robe to mende ; 
And y wil to court gon, 
Forto loke what thai don. 

In thi pover wede. 



240 Ancient English 



Bring hem under yon wode-side, 
Al so yern astow may ride, 

The way thou canst hem lede ; 
And i schal heighe me wel sone, 
y com oyain er it be none, 900 

Yif Crist me wil spede. 

When Horn fro fer herd glewe. 

With tabournes bete, and trumpes blewe, 

Oyaines hem he yede ; 
Muging king ful wele he knewe, 
He tok him bi the lorein rewe, 

Oyain he held his stede. 
Wikard com, and smot him so. 
And seyd, Traitour, lat the bridel go ; 

The blode out after yede. 910 

Horn ful trewely hath him hight. 
He schal him yeld that ich night, 

A box schal ben his mede. 

Mojoun king was ful wo. 

That he had smiten the pover man so. 

And seyd, Lat mi bridel be. 
Withthi thou lat mi bridel be, 
What so thou wilt aski me, 

Blethelich yeve i the. 
' Porter,' quath Horn, thatow wilt * 920 

Yive me maiden Rimnild, 

That is so fair and fre. 
The king was wroth, and rewe his yift, 
" Thou askest wrong, and no thing right, 

Sche may not thine be." 

Horn seyd, Y sett a nett o time, 
Yif ani iische is taken therinne, 

Of al this seven yere, ' 
No schal it never more be mine, 
Y wold it were sonken in helle-pine, 930 

With fendes fele on fere. 

■ The MS. evidently reads Fctsr ; for what reason cannot be conceived. 



Metrical Romances. 241 



And yif it hath ytaken nought, 
Y schal it love in hert thought, 

And be me leve and dere. 
Thus thai went alle y same 
Unto the castel, with gle and game, 

A fole thai wende he were. 

Of beggers mo than sexti, 
Horn seyd, Maister am y. 

And aske the the mete, 94° 

That y mote, and other thre. 
To-day in thine halle be. 

When folk is gon to fete ; 
Than y wil folwe the ham, 
And that y mot with the gan. 

In atte castel-yete. 
The king him hight sikerly, 
" Thou schalt in the halle by, 

To have ther 'thi' mete." 

Thar was mani riche gest 95° 

Dight unto that frely fest 

Of douhti folk in lond, 
Atte yate was strong thrast, 
Horn wald nought be the last, 

In forto gange. 
The porter cald him harlot swain. 
And he put him oyain 

Therout for to stand ; 
Horn brust upon him so 
His scholder bone he brak ato, 960 

And in anon he thrange. 

Kokes hadde the mete grayd. 

The bord was sett, tke cloth was layd. 

To benche yede the bold ; 
The trompes ' blewa,' the glewemen pleyd, 
The bischopes had the grace yseyd. 

As muri men of mold. 
Ther was many a riche man. 
Mete and drink wel god wan 

To alle that eta wolde ; 970 



242 Ancient English 



Horn sat, and litel ete, 
Michel he thought, and more he speke. 
For fole men schuld him hold. 

Than was the lawe, sothe to say, 
The bride schuld, the first day, 

Serven atte mete ; 
Hendelich than served scho, 
As a maiden schuld do ; 

Horn bigan do speke. 
" Maiden, yif thi wille be 980 

To godes men schultow se. 

Thou no oughtest hem nought foryete, 
And seththen the knightes schul turnay, 
For to loke who so may 

The maistri of hem yete. 

Forth sche went, that maiden fre, 
And feched drink that men might se 

To that beggere : 
"For Homes love y pray the 
Go nought ar this drunken be, 990 

Yif ever he was the dere." 
The maiden by him stille stode, 
To here of Horn hir thought it gode, 

He lay hir hert ful nere ; 
Of the coppe he drank the wine. 
The ring of gold he kest therinne, 

Bitokening lo it here. 

"A sely man, the threstes fare, 
Thou schalt have a drink mare, 

Gode wine schal it be ; looo 

Another drink sche him bare ; 
Sche asked yif Horn therin ware, 

Ya, certes, than seyd he. 
Nas sche bot a litel fram him gon. 
That sche ne fel adoun anon. 

Now swoneth that fre. 
Knightes hir to chaumber ledde, 
When sche lay upon hir bedde, 

Sche seyd, Clepe Hatherof to me. 



Metrical Romances. 



243 



Knightes, goth into halle swithe, loio 

And bid the kinges make hem blithe, 

That y wold wel fein ; 
Hatherof, go into the erber swithe, 
And geder parvink and ive, 

Greses that ben of main. 
Certeynli, as y you say, 
Horn is in this halle to day, 

Y wende he hadde ben slain, 
Mojoun king schal never spede. 

For to have ^mi maidenhede, 1020 

Now Horn is comen oyain. 

Hatherof, go into halle and se. 
In seli pover wede is he, 

Y pray the knowe him right. 
Say him, Treuthe-plight er we. 
Bid him, sche seyd, as he is fre. 

Hold that he bihiht. 
Bidd him go, and me abide 
Right under yon wode-side. 

As he is a trewe knight ; 103° 

When al this folk is gon to play. 
He and y schal stele oway, 

Bituene the day and the night. 

Hatherof into halle yode. 
For to bihald that frely fode, 

Fule wele he knewe his viis, 
Opon his fot hard he stode, 
Horn thought the tokening gode. 

Up he gan to arise. 
Forth thai yede tho knightes bold, 1040 

Hatherof the maidens erand told. 

Of trewe love Horn was wiis : 
" Y schal com into the feld with pride. 
An hundred knightes bi mi side, 

Milke white is mi queintise. 

Bot, Hatherof, thou most me schawe, 
Wharbi y schal Wikard knawe, 
His buffeyt schal be bought." 



244 Ancient English 



1050 



" He hath queintise white so snawe, 
With foules blac as ani crawe. 

With silke werk it is wrought. 
Mojoun queintise 'is' yalu and wan, 
Sett with pekok and with swan. 

That he with him hath brought ; 
Wikeles queintise is yalu and grene, 
Floure de liis sett bituene, 

Him foryete thou nought." 



Now is Hatherof comen oyain, 
And seyd he hath Horn sain, 

And what folk he hath brought, io6o 

And after 'wisarmes' he gan frain, 
Was never Rimnild ere so fain, 

In hert, no in thought. 
" Hatherof, go into halle swithe, 
And bid mi fader make him blithe, 

And say icham sike nought. 
Wikard that is leve to smite, 
Horn schal him his dettes quite, 

To night it schal be bought." 

When thai hadde eten than were thai boun, 1070 

With spere oloft and gonfainoun, 

Al armed were tho bold ; 
With trump and tabourun out of toun. 
Thus thai redde the right roun, 

Ich man as he wold. 
An erle out of Cornwayle 
Oyain Mojoun saun faile. 

The turnament schal hold, 
And Horn com into the feld with pride. 
An hundred knightes bi his side, 1080 

In rime as it is told. 

Horn of coming was wel wise. 
And knewe hem bi her queyntise. 

Anon thai counterd tho. 
Majoun the king hath tint the priis. 
Under his hors fete he liis, 

Horn wald noght slo. 



Metrical Romances. 445 



To sir Wigard his swerd he weved. 

Even atuo he cleve his heved, 1090 

His box he yalt him the. 
Out ha smot Wigles eighe, 
Traitours that er leve to lighe 

Men schal hem ken so. 

That day Horn the turnament wan, 
Fro Mojoun and mani a man. 

With knightes stithe on stede. 
He toke the gre, that was a swan, 
And sent to Rimnild his leman, 

To hir riche mede. 1 1°° 

To Houlac king Horn gan wende. 
And thonked him as his frende, 

Of his gode dede : 
" Thou feddest me, and forsterd to man :" 
He maked Wikel telle out than 

His lessinges, and his falshed. 

Mojoun king is ivel dight, 
Tint he hath that swete wight, 

And wold ben oway, 
Horn, that hadde hir treuthe-plight, mo 

Wedded hir that ich night, 

And al opon a day. 
Now is Rimnild tuiis wedde, 
Horn brought hir to his bedde, 

Houlac king gan say. 
Half mi lond ichil the yive 
With mi doughter while y live. 

And al after mi day. 

Five days sat her fest, 

With mete and drink riche and onest, 1 120 

]i boke as we rede ; 
Forth, as we telle in gest, 
Horn lete sende est and west. 

His folk to batayle bede ; 
Into Northhumberland for to fare, 
To winne that his fader ware. 

With knightes stithe on stede, 
2 H 



2^6 Ancient English Metrical Romances. 

With erl, baroun, and with swain, 
To winne his fader lond oyain, 

Yif Crist him wold spede. 1130 

Michel frely folk was thare, 
Into Northhumberland to fare, 

With stedes wite and broun ; 
Horn wald for no man spare 
To winne al that his fader ware, 

Bothe tour and toun. 
When Thorbrond herd this. 
That Horn to lond yeomen is,* 



* The rest is wanting. 



END OF VOL. II.